


And In Her Smile I See Something More Beautiful Than The Stars

by meetwickedfaith



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Cosmic Clexa, Dimension Travel, F/F, Romance, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Time Travel, apparently quite a lot of cliffhangers - sorry, but they all get resolved i promise!, sweet sweet pining and lusting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-03 02:58:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 62,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6593956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meetwickedfaith/pseuds/meetwickedfaith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke has been locked in the Sky Box for almost a year now. What will be her fate, and why does she keep dreaming of a girl with braided hair who stands in the forest and looks to the stars. An epic battle that could mean the end of the world, again, is coming. Could Clarke and Lexa's love hold the key to changing the past, and the future....</p><p>A tribute to the iconic characters who transcended the show that brought them to us.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at writing anything in a long time, and certainly my first shot at dipping my toe into the Clexa/100 fandom. So please be kind and excuse any sloppiness you may see! I hope to develop as this goes on. 
> 
> This story will take place within The 100 world that we know, but with some key differences. Some relationships are different, certain events will play out differently or never happen at all, and the mythology will likely be greatly altered. I don't want to give too much away, but just know that Clexa are endgame. At the moment I have no idea how many chapters this will end up being, but I do intend on it being pretty substantial.

Clarke lay on the small cot in her cell, staring up at the charcoal sky she had drawn on the ceiling. There was little else to do as there was still over an hour until the guards would come to let her out for her daily hour of exercise. She had languished in this small prison for three hundred and forty five days now. The charcoal scores on the wall beside her confirmed this. Just twenty more marks to go before she celebrated a full year in the compact, temperature-controlled hell.

 

Normally she would spend this time after lunch studying a medical or science textbook, or sometimes reading a novel. Novels that had more often than not been written centuries before but which held so much wonder and adventure. There were times when she felt like these stories were the only thing that had kept her sane this past year. That and her drawings. But she was unable to sketch out anything new today as she hadn’t received any paper in weeks, and every inch of her sketchbooks were filled with pictures.

 

She looked around at the other drawings adorning the walls of the small room. Every now and then the guards would force her to clean them off. They would stand by with their guns, smirking at her until all that was left was grey water in a bucket. She never understood why they made her do it, as the pictures were harmless enough. She liked to draw scenes of Earth and what she imagined life on the Ground to be like. She made sure to never let them see how much it pained her to clean them away.

 

But today she had no charcoal, she had no drawing space, and she’d read the few books she possessed what felt like dozens of times already.

 

She wondered again to herself why her mother hadn’t tried again to see her. In the beginning she had come, but something in the way Abby spoke about Clarke’s father made her stop in her tracks. When she had apologised, Clarke had known then that she was saying sorry for the part she had played in sealing her father’s fate. Clarke had screamed at her to never come back, that she never wanted to see her again. She told her she would never forgive her. Three hundred and forty five days later and that still held true. But she also knew that she missed her mother desperately and deep down had hoped that she might try again for contact. 

 

She reached under her bed and pulled out the sketchbook she had placed there. Laying her head back on the pillow she flicked through the pages, seeing animals and birds, more intricate images of flowers, geometric shapes and mandalas. Turning towards the centre of the book she stopped on two pages depicting a scene of a moon-lit forest, with great detail having gone into the tall trees that rose up to the night sky above; the Milky Way running vast overhead. Standing in the middle of the forest a dark figure could be seen, wearing a long coat, long braided hair flowing down her back, a sword at her hip, and eyes cast to the sky. Clarke’s gaze lingered on the figure and again she wondered why this person, this girl, kept appearing on the fringes of her dreams. When she would wake she could never quite conjure up the full picture of the girl’s face. Just a snatched detail here and there, and then it would disappear into the ether. Most times she dismissed it as being a confusion of characters that she had read about in books or seen in old movies. Her mind's way of putting herself on Earth and finding a person there to relate to.

 

She turned the page to a scene depicting a city rising up from the thick forest surrounding it. Except this wasn’t like the cities she had seen in photographs or films from the Before. This city was all dilapidated houses and buildings. Wooden huts with smoke rising from wood burning stoves, but with the rubble of crumbling ruins interspersed between. It was a settlement sprang from the ashes of an almost destroyed city. Almost destroyed but for the towering building that rose up high above all the rest, with a flame burning bright from the top.

 

 _Like a candle_ , Clarke thought.

 

She was pulled abruptly from her thoughts as the door to her cell hissed loudly signalling that someone was entering. Quickly tucking the sketchbook back under her bed she made to stand. Three sets of guard boots marched in, which Clarke immediately thought was strange as there was only ever one guard to escort her to the exercise area. She scanned their faces as they lined up in front of her.

 

“Place your hands on the wall, Prisoner 319,” barked the only one of the three that she recognised.

 

 _Shumway_.

 

“What’s going on?” Clarke asked, noticing the beads of sweat rolling down the face of the middle guard with the brown floppy curls and the freckles.

 

“I repeat. Turn around and place your hands on the wall 319. Right NOW!” Shumway boomed, making Clarke jump.

 

As she turned she saw the third guard dart his eyes towards the curly haired boy, Something felt very wrong about this and she could feel her fight or flight instinct kicking in. But she could do neither so she turned to the wall and placed her palms against it.

 

“Cuff her, Miller,” Shumway ordered.

 

She was then turned around and her arms were pulled in front of her and her wrists cuffed. As she turned she caught the eye of the third guard as he locked the handcuffs to her wrists. He had a kind look about him and it almost felt like he was trying to reassure her with his gentle gaze

 

But any trust that she started to feel disappeared instantaneously when she took in what Shumway said next.

 

“Wave goodbye to your pretty pictures, Griffin, because this is the last time you’ll be seeing them.”

 

“I’m being released?” she responded uncertainly.

 

Shumway laughed mockingly. “You really have spent too much time locked up in here. Released? Did you forget you turned eighteen last week? You’re being floated. Like you should have been a year ago with your father.”

  
Clarke’s knees felt weak under her, and she thought she might be sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Please leave feedback if you have a moment or head over to my [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/weasal) where I am weasal and join in with all things Clexa, Lexa and The Hunner.


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke felt like she was walking through a dream as the two younger guards took her by the arms and marched her out of the cell. They made their way along the long corridor that led towards the other areas of the Sky Box. Her feet somehow managed to keep moving beneath her even though she felt like she might just fall on the floor.

 

When she stumbled, the guard with the brown hair caught her around her waist. It was strange how gentle both of these new guards were being with her. Perhaps they were just doing their jobs and not taking any pleasure in it the way Shumway did.

 

“Is it happening right now?” she asked, looking between them. “Will I get to see my mom?”

 

Even with all the resentment she still harboured towards her, in this moment all she wanted was to see her mom one last time.

 

“It’s set for the morning,” the guard named Miller replied in a hushed tone. “We’re taking you to a holding cell for the night. Be compliant and things will be easier.”

 

Clarke felt like that wasn’t really an answer, but it went some ways to quell the rising panic in her chest. At least she had a few more hours to live.

 

At the end of the corridor they emerged out into an open space. This mezzanine level had stairs running off it leading to the lower levels, where Clarke could see rows and rows of doors.

 

 _The general prison population_ , she thought.  _This is where I would have been if I hadn’t been in solitary._

 

Looking to the bottom level, she saw prisoners sitting at tables playing chess or talking.

 

“Clarke!”

 

She turned towards the voice and was stunned to see her childhood friend Finn staring up at her. He began to take the stairs two at a time.

 

“Finn!” She struggled against the guards.

 

“Stop right there inmate! Do not approach any further,” Shumway bellowed.

 

Finn stopped mid-way up the stairs, looking pointedly at Clarke.

 

“I’m being floated,” Clarke called to him. “If you see my Mom tell her...I love her.”

 

He nodded. “Don’t worry, everything’s going to be alright.”

 

Clarke frowned, thinking he wore an odd look for the gravity of the situation. She had known Finn all her life and something felt off about his reaction.

 

Before she could think any more on it, Shumway was barking orders at the guards to keep her moving and she was being pulled along again.

 

“It’ll be ok Clarke!” Finn shouted after her. “May we meet again!”

 

They were through and out another door before she could even formulate a response. The thought of not seeing Finn again made everything all at once seem so crushingly real, and she swallowed down a sob that threatened to force its way out of her. She refused to cry in front of the guards.

 

Coming to a stop at a heavy door marked with a large 'X', Shumway punched in the entry code. Once inside, the two younger guards let go of her arms and left the cell.

 

Clarke turned to face Shumway, who scowled back at her.

 

“Are you at least going to take these off?” She raised her cuffed hands in front of her.

 

He scoffed. “As a dangerous prisoner it’s protocol that you remain contained until your execution.”

 

Clarke shuddered involuntarily. “Is being in a prison cell not  _already_ being contained?”

 

“Jaha’s orders. He doesn’t want any….loose ends.”

 

She had no idea what that meant or why she was deemed a ‘dangerous prisoner’, as if she was some sort of violent criminal. Her only crime had been to overhear her father’s discovery about the Ark. But she knew she was dangerous in the sense of being a threat to the political ambitions of those in charge. If she had been given the chance she knew she would have fulfilled her father’s plan to let everyone know the truth.

 

“I want to see my Mom,” she stated confidently, looking Shumway directly in the eye.

 

“Your time for making demands is long past, Griffin. Your mother can’t help you now. Enjoy your last night in this life.”

 

And with that he turned on his heel, exited the room and the door closed behind him with a swoosh.

 

Clarke stood there looking at the door for a long time. She felt strangely calm, but also recognised that she was probably in a sort of shock. Once her hands started to tingle with numbness she quickly pumped her fists together and flexed her wrists as best she could with the restraints on. She looked around at what little there was of the small space. A metal shelf was attached to the back wall with a thin piece of foam on top of it. She guessed this was meant to pass for a bed. The only other thing in the room was a toilet.

 

 _All the luxuries of death row_ , she thought bitterly.

 

She walked to the bed and sat down, feeling almost outside of herself. Part of her mind was trying to grapple with the enormity of what was unfolding, but the other part was in a kind of survival shutdown, semi-denial mode. Both parts together recognised this as being the way that she would get through the night without slipping into complete panic and terror.

 

Her thoughts drifted to Finn, and she wondered why he was in the Sky Box. When she had been locked up almost a year ago she’d left Finn as a happy go-lucky boy, who’d never been in any kind of trouble at all. What in _space_ had he done to land himself in here? She sincerely hoped it was nothing serious and that he would be released at some point. But she knew that if a solution to the oxygen problem wasn’t found and soon, then it wouldn’t matter where Finn was. 

 

She began to think of her mom and suddenly a gulping sob came from deep inside of her. Tears started to flow down her face and more sobs racked her body. A year’s worth of emotion poured out of her, and she shook on that metal shelf for what felt like a very long time. Eventually she lay down on the thin piece of foam. Closing her eyes she tried to calm her racing heart and steady her ragged breathing. Not long after, emotionally drained and exhausted, she slipped into a fitful sleep.

 

Immediately the dreams came, but this time with much more detail and intensity. She saw the girl with the braided hair and the sword at her hip. Flashes of her riding a white horse, standing on a balcony of the great tower, charging into battle with hundreds of fighters at her back, standing at a funeral pyre with a solitary tear running down her cheek. Clarke really saw her face now. The detail of her wide green eyes, the hard set of her jaw.

 

She awoke with a start, bolting upright, panting and with sweat soaking her body.

 

It was so confusing. Why would her mind haunt her with this on her last night alive? She should be dreaming of her own family and friends, or of the fate that awaited her in the morning. A nightmare before the true nightmare began. But instead it was this girl again.

 

 _Who are you?_ she thought, still willing herself to calm down.

 

Just as her heart rate started to settle again she thought it might jump right out of her chest when in a huge flurry of commotion, there was a loud thunk. This was followed by a girl falling from the ceiling and landing in a heap on the floor.

 

Clarke could only stare in shock, her mouth hanging agape.

 

“Ouch,” came from the slightly dishevelled girl. She picked herself up, pushing her long dark hair away from her face.

 

“What….” Clarke stammered. “What the hell?”

 

“Sorry about that entrance, Princess. Didn’t mean to scare you. I’d planned on dropping in more gracefully, but this stupid ceiling panel--” she lightly kicked said metal panel, “--decided to give way on me. I guess they weren’t designed to hold the weight of a small human.”

 

“How did you....you called me Princess. Who _are_ you?”

 

“Time for explanations along the way. Time being of the essence here. You’re Princess and I’m Octavia, your designated knight in shining armour for stage one of the ‘Don’t Let Clarke Die Masterplan’. I’m thinking you’ll be on board, being the protagonist and all, so let’s get out of here. Are you ready?”

 

Clarke looked at the girl, and then stood.

 

“I’m definitely ready. But why?” she asked, completely confused.

 

“Why what?” Octavia replied, confused herself, and sounding impatient.

 

“Why are you helping me?” Clarke looked into the girl’s eyes, being reminded of the similar coloured eyes in her dream. “You don’t even know me.”

 

Octavia paused briefly, taking Clarke in.

 

“Raven,” she stated simply. “I might not know you, but I know Raven. She’s helped me and my brother more times than I can count so when she asked all of us to help save you, well….it wasn’t a difficult decision.”

 

Clarke’s mind was reeling. “Your _brother_? How is that even possible? And what do you mean, ‘All of us’? Who else is in on this? Is that why Finn is in here?”

 

Octavia shook her head. “We really do _not_ have time for this. We have to go, and _now_. Time for answers later, okay?”

 

Clarke nodded reluctantly, shoving down the myriad of thoughts trying to burst out of her head.

 

 _Here we go_ , she thought, steeling herself for what was to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Please leave feedback if you have a moment or head over to my [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/weasal) where I am weasal and join in with all things Clexa, Lexa and The Hunner.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who left kudos or a comment, or just read the thing! It's a very strange thing putting yourself out there online, and honestly I was expecting my only reader to be my wife! So it's completely awesome to know that others are interested in seeing where this goes. I know you are here for the Clexa and I promise we are getting there very soon. I promise it will be worth the wait. I wrote this chapter with this music in my mind - [Listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n5tPwnetNSM) \- and also a bit of this - [Listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nMEHJPuggHQ)
> 
> Join me over on Tumblr where more stuff to do with this story will start to appear - https://www.tumblr.com/blog/weasal

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **_Your voice is my favourite sound. And it thunders in my ears and flutters in my heart, ringing with such an indescribable song._ **

 

 

“Now we just have to work out how to get _you_ , up _there,_ ” Octavia said, looking between Clarke and the gap in the ceiling.

 

“With handcuffs on,” Clarke replied grimly.

 

Octavia looked down at the restraints as if only noticing them for the first time. “Well, shit.”

 

They both looked around the room fruitlessly.

 

“Ok, hang on.” Octavia began rummaging in the small satchel that was slung around her. From it she pulled what looked similar to a folded up seat belt. She unravelled it to reveal a small grapple hook on the end.

 

Clarke raised her eyebrows at this. “What else you got in there, Indy?”

 

“Who?” Octavia replied, her brow furrowed in confusion.

 

“Forget it,” Clarke replied, smiling slightly at the innocence of this girl, “What are we going to do about these though?” She held her wrists up. “Happen to pack a hacksaw?”

 

“Fresh out of hacksaws unfortunately. We’re going to have to make do the best we can. Bellamy swore that the cuffs would be off.”

 

Something clicked into place for Clarke. “Bellamy. One of the guards?”

 

“Yes, and my brother,” Octavia replied, looking again at the ceiling.

 

“I see the resemblance,” Clarke said, remembering the dark hair. “I don’t think the cuffs were supposed to be left on, but Shumway's always done what he could to make things as difficult as possible for me.”

 

“He might actually have done us a favour,” Octavia said, as she swung the long belt up to the space in the ceiling. It sailed through on the first try and she gave it a hard tug to make sure it was going to hold. It held.

 

Clarke was impressed.

 

Octavia then proceeded to pull herself up the belt, hand over hand, until within seconds she was pulling herself up and over the edge.

 

Clarke was now seriously impressed. This girl was like some sort of ninja.

 

Octavia’s head appeared in the hole. “Pass me up the ceiling panel.”

 

Clarke lifted the metal panel and stood on her tiptoes to pass it to Octavia’s dangling arms.

 

“We don’t want them to know how you escaped.” 

 

“I need to actually get up there before I can do any escaping,” Clarke replied. “And we aren’t all part-monkey." She had always believed she could do anything she put her mind to, but right now this seemed like an insurmountable task.

 

Octavia gave her a serious look. “Clarke, we can do this. We can use the cuffs as a way to hoist you up. It’s probably going to hurt like hell, but it’s the only way to do this without you having proper use of your arms. Now, just give me a second while I try to set this up around a vent up here.”

 

After a few muffled thuds Octavia’s face appeared again and she lowered the belt down.

 

“Ok, you need to loop that through the cuffs and make it secure. I’m going to have to be out of your view so I can brace myself against the floor. Shout when you’re ready and I’ll start pulling.”

 

“Octavia….” Clarke said, feeling doubtful, “Are you sure you can do this? I mean, how?”

 

“Physics, as Raven would say,” Octavia replied, gaining a quirk of the eyebrow from Clarke. “It’s a pulley. It might break me in half but we will get this done. Just….prepare your own body for the next few minutes.”

 

Fifteen minutes later both girls were laying flat on their backs in the roof space above the cell, drenched in sweat and breathing hard. Clarke’s wrists were bloody and bruised, and her shoulders felt like they had been pulled out of their sockets. But they had made it. Through a combination of Octavia hoisting, Clarke clawing her way up, and from pure force of will, they had made it.

 

“Fuck…….me,” Octavia gasped in between great gulps of air.

 

Clarke turned her head towards the other girl, panting hard herself, and let out a small laugh. She felt a small glimmer of hope in that moment. She still had no idea what the plan was beyond this, but right now she imagined this might be what it would feel like to conquer a mountain. If they could do this, then maybe she could survive to see another day.

 

“What now?” she asked, feeling determined to keep going.

 

“Now we move,” Octavia replied, picking herself up off the floor and offering a hand to help Clarke up.

 

They made their way as quietly as was possible through the system of air ducts and roof spaces, sometimes crawling, sometimes able to walk if they hunched over. Clarke was careful to walk or crawl where Octavia walked or crawled, and they did not speak for fear of being overheard. It was hard going for Clarke as the handcuffs made for awkward manoeuvring.

 

After what felt to Clarke like a very long time had passed, although she knew in reality it was probably only about thirty minutes, Octavia stopped ahead of her and crouched down.

 

“What…” Clarke started but was cut off by Octavia holding her hand up, motioning her to be quiet.

 

She was listening, Clarke realised. The only sound was the low level hum of machinery working below.

 

After a few moments Octavia seemed to be satisfied and tapped out a rhythm on the floor with a metal flashlight she had been carrying. The sounds of the machinery and then…..the same rhythm echoed back from below.

 

Octavia smiled, and then began to slide a panel back. Seconds later, one of the most beloved faces in Clarke’s life popped up, looking eagerly between them.

 

“Well what took you so long?!” Raven exclaimed. “You’re thirty five minutes behind the agreed arrival time.”

 

Clarke broke out into a huge grin at the sight of her friend, and she dropped to her knees and threw her arms around the other girl’s head in an awkward head hug.

 

“Raven,” she breathed out, relief washing over her at the sight of her friend.

 

“Mmph,” Raven managed, her face muffled into Clarke’s chest. “I missed being pressed into your cleavage as much as anyone, but this is just weird, Clarke.”

 

“Sorry!” Clarke said, moving back, “It’s just so good to see you.”

 

“Likewise, Griffin,” Raven replied grinning. “Now get your ass down here so we can hug properly.”

 

Octavia then stepped through the gap onto the ladder below, and Clarke followed quickly after her.

 

Once their feet were firmly on the ground Raven pulled Clarke into a tight hug, pinning her cuffed hands between them.

 

“I’m so glad we got you out,” she said softly into Clarke’s hair.

 

Clarke pulled back to look at her friend. “Me too,” she replied sincerely, her voice wavering slightly. “Thank you.”

 

Raven beamed. “Anytime. And speaking of time….” she turned to Octavia, “What was with the hold up Lil Octopus? We _are_ on a schedule here.”

 

Octavia scowled. “I told you not to call me that. And hello, handcuffs? We were lucky to make it here at all. Princess hadn’t exactly been doing her prison pull-ups this past year.”

 

Raven glanced down at Clarke’s now very beaten-up wrists. “Yikes. What did you do, O? Drag her up by the cuffs?”

 

Octavia shrugged and sat down on a large metal pipe that ran the length of the room. Clarke looked around, noticing they were in some sort of machinery or plant room. There were large metal units fixed to the floor in various parts of the large space, all emitting a humming or whirring noise. She guessed it was all something to do with power or perhaps air. Engineering was never her strong suit. That had always been Raven’s area of expertise.

 

“We improvised,” said Octavia, pushing her long hair behind her shoulders and then nodding towards Clarke. “But I think she'd appreciate getting those things off now.”

 

“Lucky for you I’m just the gal to do that.” Raven made her way over to a toolkit and began rummaging around until she produced a piece of metal wire.

 

“No hacksaw then?” 

 

“Please. I’m a mechanic, an engineer, and a genius. I have more finesse than that, and it just so happens I happen to be an expert lock picker.”

 

Clarke couldn’t deny her the boast when after only seconds of fiddling with the cuffs, they fell to the ground with a clunk.

 

She looked down at her wrists and saw just how deeply cut and bruised they were. She winced in pain as she tried to flex them a little to get some movement back.

 

Octavia was by her side almost immediately with antiseptic cream and bandages.

 

As she finished the dressing, Clarke looked up at her. “I don’t know if I’ve said it yet, but thank you for everything you’ve done for me so far. I know you must be risking a lot.”

 

The girl shrugged. “In the big scheme of things I’m probably risking no more than I am every other day just by existing here. Raven and the others are in way more danger than I am by doing this.”

 

Clarke thought about what Octavia was saying, and how she must have somehow managed to stay hidden or under the radar of the authorities all her life. She couldn’t even imagine how that was possible. But she was starting to think a lot of things could be possible that she had never previously considered.

 

“Yeah, about that, Rey,” Clarke said, looking at Raven. “Who else is involved in this plan and what happens next? I can’t exactly join Octavia for a life in the shadows, and I can’t leave the Ark. And what about right now? Won’t someone from the Sky Box notice I’m gone and sound the alarm?”

 

“Calm down Clarke,” Raven said gently. “We have time. We have two guys on the inside; Bellamy and Miller. They made sure they got the night-shift covering your holding cell. So no one should notice anything is wrong until they come get you in the morning.”

 

“When is that?” Clarke asked, feeling disorientated about how many hours had gone by since she was first taken to the holding cell. “What time is it now?”

 

Raven looked at her wristwatch. “It’s only a quarter after eleven. That means we have just over two hours until launch time. My calculations show that’s the optimal time to get you out.”

 

Clarke’s eyes widened. “Launch time? Get me out where, Raven?”

 

Raven and Octavia shared a look between them.

 

“To the ground, Clarke. We’re sending you to Earth.”

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Raven spent the next hour explaining everything to Clarke. Octavia filled in the gaps. Together with Finn, Bellamy, Miller, Clarke’s mother, and some others, they had been hatching this plan to break Clarke out for months. They told her how Abby had tried to visit her again but that the Council had stopped her once she had started to voice her concerns about their approach to the oxygen emergency. They then threw Abby off the Council and for the most part she was under house arrest, only being allowed to move between her living quarters and the Medical Bay to treat patients. They told Clarke of the small but growing resistance movement that had sprung up and was now trying to overthrow the Council, and figure out a way to save all of the Ark’s people. Octavia told Clarke of her illegitimate life confined to the floor and roof spaces, but how she had used these spaces to move around the Ark and now to become a crucial element in the rebellion, and in Clarke’s escape. Of how she had one day, not long after Clarke was imprisoned, been discovered by Raven when she was on one of her exploratory missions, and Raven was fixing something in one of those roof spaces. And how Raven began to help her by sharing schematics of the Ark so she could move around more easily.

 

Clarke listened intently to all of this, trying to take it all in and reacting mostly in stunned silence.

 

“So my Mom has been trying to help all along?” she asked finally.

 

“Without your mom we probably wouldn’t have all come together to do this,” Raven said. “She’s been crucial to the resistance movement. But she couldn’t come here tonight. It’s too risky. They watch her like a hawk. But she wanted to. She wanted me to give you this.”

 

Raven reached into her pocket and passed her a familiar watch.

 

“Dad,” she said softly, taking the watch and studying its beat-up face and strap. Her father had worn that watch every day for as far back as Clarke could remember. She swiped her thumb over its face and watched the second hand work its way round. She thought of her Dad sitting at his desk in their living quarters, working on some project. His big broad shoulders in the holey sweaters he would insist on wearing despite her Mom’s protests. The card games he had taught her where they would sit for hours laughing and playing together, Clarke gradually becoming a great player, and her Dad telling her that her competitiveness meant she would always be a sore loser. Then that final image of him being sucked out into the darkness of space. Just...gone.

 

“She wants your forgiveness more than anything,” Raven said, gently. “But first and foremost she wants you to be safe and _alive._ ”

 

Clarke frowned and pushed down the emotions threatening to spill over. She slipped the watch into her pants pocket, unable to wear it right now with the bandages on.

 

“Guys, I really don’t know how to thank you for risking your lives to try to save mine. But I don’t understand the point if I’m just being sent to my certain death anyway. I can’t risk all of you being caught in this and floated, when all it results in is me dying within hours of landing down there from radiation poisoning.”

 

Raven stood. “Come with me.” She beckoned for both of them to follow her through the machines surrounding them.

 

They rounded a corner and went through a doorway to enter a smaller space. A workbench was set up with various tools and pieces of equipment strewn across it, as well as what looked like piles of maps and diagrams. There was also a computer console, with two screens attached to the wall.

 

“What _is_ all of this?” Clarke asked, looking around.

 

Raven grinned. “This my friend, is my secret lair. My Raven Cave if you will.”

 

“You’ve definitely watched too many old movies,” Clarke responded, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. _Stars, she had missed this girl._

 

Shrugging, Raven went to the computer and started to bring up some images on the screens.

 

“You wanted to know how we knew it was worth the risk to save you, and to send you to the ground?” She pointed at the screens. “That’s why.”

 

Clarke looked. On the left screen she saw what she thought were various satellite images of Earth. On the other screen was a host of graphs and complex looking diagrams and equations. None of what she was seeing made much sense to her.

 

“What am I looking at here?” she asked, puzzled.

 

“Proof, Clarke,” Raven replied eagerly. “Proof that Earth is habitable and that there are people living on its surface _right now._ ”

 

Clarke looked back at the screens, completely stunned.

 

“I’ve been collecting satellite imagery and running data analysis for months now,” Raven continued. “See these pictures with the cleared area and the collection of round objects?” She pointed to an image on the screen. “This picture is from data collected two years ago, but then if you compare it to this picture--” she moved her finger to the picture to the right, “--we see no cleared area and no round objects. Only what I can assume is dense forest.”

 

Clarke frowned, trying to make sense of what Raven was getting at. “And that means….?”

 

“Look at the date and coordinates on the second picture,” Raven said impatiently. “This picture is of exactly the _same_ location, but was taken thirty years before. Those objects you see? They’re _man-made_ structures. Dwellings of some sort if I had to guess. Someone has cleared that area of the forest, and made a village there. If Earth had nobody living on it, we wouldn’t see anything like this.”

 

Clarke took in a deep breath and stared at the images, trying to organise her thoughts.

 

“It’s true,” Octavia offered. “Raven’s been running all kinds of her sciencey shit in here for months. All the data backs it up. People are down there.”

 

“How did you get access to all of this?” Clarke asked, looking at her friend. “And why don’t the Council know about it? Maybe this is our answer to the oxygen crisis? If we just went to the right people with this, we could _all_ go to the Ground.”

 

Raven sighed. “I got access because I can. No one is even looking at this stuff. They’re all so wrapped up in Ark politics and power plays, and stuck on the notion that we need to wait another hundred years to go down, that they don’t even consider it as being an option. And yes, we’re hoping that this _will_ be our way out of this crisis, and that somehow we’ll figure out how to get everyone down there. But in the meantime, Clarke, they want to kill you. Regardless of what new information you might have, they will float you in a few hours from now. We can’t let that happen. You need to go on ahead, and we’ll do our damndest to meet you down there when we can.”

 

Clarke swallowed, her throat feeling dry and her head buzzing. “Is this where I’m going?” she asked, pointing at the images on screen.

 

Raven nodded. “As close as I can get you to that area, yes. I’ve ran all the simulations, done the math, and programmed those coordinates into the Escape Pod’s system. So all going well, you should land somewhere within a ten mile radius of this.” She tapped the picture of the village. “That’s why we needed to get you out when we did, and why we need to launch soon. Not long from now The Ark will be orbiting above what was North Eastern America. And that’s where these people are. It’s your best chance of survival.”

 

“America,” Clarke said quietly, gazing at the grainy images. How strange to think she would be going there. This place that she had only ever seen in old films and where her ancestors once were, but that she felt zero affinity with whatsoever. “What’s this?” she asked, pointing to another image that had a glowing orange blob in it.

 

“More evidence that somebody is down there,” Raven replied, “That image is from what seems to be a partially destroyed city. Most of the shapes you can see are low level buildings, but this one with the glow coming from it, it looks like__”

 

“A tower,” Clarke finished for her, sucking in her breath.

 

Raven’s brows furrowed. “How did you know that?”

 

“I dreamed it,” Clarke replied, moving closer to the screen to study the picture.

 

“You dreamed it?” Octavia asked, looking to Raven sceptically.

 

“That orange glow...” Clarke continued, oblivious to the other girls’ glances at each other, “It's some sort of fire isn’t it? A flame?”

 

“It is,” Raven replied, her voice uncertain. “The thermal imaging tech picked it up. Seriously, Clarke, how did you know that?”

 

Clarke let out a breath she hadn’t even realised she was holding, and turned to sit down on a stool that was a few paces away. She put her elbows on her thighs and began to massage her temples.

 

“I dreamed about that place. I’ve dreamed about it a hundred times over. The tower, the flame, the forest. I don’t know how, but I have. I’ve filled pages and pages in my sketchbooks with images just like the ones we’re talking about now. I know you of all people won’t believe that, Raven, but I have no other explanation.”

 

Raven and Octavia stood looking at her, then to each other, then back again to Clarke.

 

Octavia cleared her throat. “Who knows what it means. We have to stick to the plan though. Shouldn’t we be getting Clarke ready for the launch now? Time is ticking,” she said pointedly to Raven.

 

Raven pulled her gaze away from Clarke to look at Octavia, rubbing behind her neck. “Right. There are some things we need to go over with you. Let’s go take a look at the Escape Pod and we can get you ready.”

 

They spent the next thirty minutes going over everything that Clarke would need to do to land safely on the Ground. Raven explained how she discovered the old shuttle some months ago and had made the necessary modifications to get it ready for launch.  For the most part she had programmed the sequence into the Pod’s onboard system, but there were certain steps that Clarke would need to perform once she reached the Earth’s atmosphere. Clarke tried to take it all in as best as she could when Raven instructed her on how to check and set the gauges, and how to power the thrusters to send her on the final part of the journey down. She made Raven go over everything five times, and even then she didn’t feel entirely convinced that she would remember what to do when the time came.

 

“You’ll be fine, Griff. You got this.” Raven squeezed her arm reassuringly.

 

Clarke smiled weakly back, not feeling confident in the slightest but knowing that this was her best chance at survival.

 

“Now let’s get you into the spacesuit.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Clarke sat inside the Escape Pod, suited up and strapped in and listening to Raven’s last minute instructions.

 

Reaching behind her and knocking on a large metal box, Raven advised, “In here you’ll find enough dehydrated food sachets to last you maybe two weeks. But I’m hoping you might make friends before that and won’t have to worry about starving.”

 

Clarke raised an eyebrow at this.

 

“You’ll also find some basic medical supplies in there, a change of clothes, a couple of blankets, a map of the area you _should_ be landing in, and a few other necessities including a toothbrush.”

 

“Wow, Rey, you really have thought of everything,” Clarke remarked, overwhelmed by the amount of the thought that had gone into this whole thing.

 

“There’s one more thing,” Octavia said. “A gun, with a couple of boxes of ammo.”

 

“Just in case,” Raven added, seeing the uncomfortable look on Clarke’s face. “There _is_ just one last thing you need to know though. When I hacked the Ark’s databases to get all the satellite data, I found information about a military bunker that’s situated near to where you should land. It’s called Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center. I’ve marked it on your map. If it turns out there are no people around, or they’re maybe not so…..friendly, then I think you should head there. Theoretically it should have plenty of useful supplies that you could use. Whatever happens I want you to keep in touch with us. Use the radio to check in with me and let me know that you’re safe.”

 

“Ok, got it,” Clarke replied, her brain feeling very overstimulated with all the new information it was being fed. “But won’t the Ark pick up our transmissions?”

 

“I’ll make sure the signal is isolated,” Raven said. “Just stick to channel 7 and we should be golden.”

 

“You really are a goddamn genius, Raven Reyes,” Clarke said, smiling at her friend.

 

“She is,” Octavia agreed, nudging Raven gently with her hip and looking at her with gleaming eyes.  Clarke noticed Raven’s cheeks flushing slightly at this, and made a mental note of just how close her friend seemed to be to this new partner in crime.

 

But just as soon as the flush had appeared it was replaced by Raven’s usual cocky grin. “Well I’m not going to argue you all on that one. A genius I am,” -- she checked her watch-- “but we’ve ran out of time for boosting my ego. Launch time is in five.”

 

Octavia passed Clarke the space helmet. “Good luck, Princess. And be careful down there.”

 

“Thank you, Octavia, for everything. You don’t even know me and you’ve risked so much to help me. I hope I can repay you one day.” Clarke squeezed the girl’s hand.

 

“Just save me a sweet spot down there, ok?” Octavia said with a small laugh. She backed away from the Pod and walked back to the inner room, leaving Raven to say her goodbyes.

 

Something Octavia had said had reminded Clarke of Finn. She looked to Raven. “Why was Finn in Lock Up? Was that part of the plan to get me out?”

 

“Not exactly,” Raven replied, grimacing. “I had to carry out an illegal spacewalk to do some modifications to this launch hatch,” --she tapped her foot on the hatch underneath them-- “but when I got back inside there were guards approaching. They would’ve been able to see that someone had been out there, and seeing as I’m over eighteen but Finn wasn’t…..he took the rap for me.” She looked down at her feet with a pained expression. “I didn’t want him to but he wouldn’t listen. He told them he just did it for fun and they bought it. He’s convinced they’ll let him out when they review his case in a few months.”

 

Clarke listened and felt sick. All these people had risked so much for her. They had put their own lives in danger and she wasn’t even sure if it was all worth it, if _she_ was worth it.

 

“I know what you’re thinking, Griffin, and I need you to stop it.” Raven levelled a serious look at her. “We all grew up together. We’re family and families do whatever it takes to save each other. Finn and I know you would do the same for us or for anyone for that matter. Hell, you just spent a year locked in solitary confinement because you were trying to do the right thing and save everyone!”

 

Clarke frowned. At this moment she didn’t know what was right or wrong anymore. She just knew she felt more scared than she had ever felt before in her life.

 

“What will you do next?” Clarke asked. “I mean, about the resistance and the Council? The oxygen?”

 

“We have some tricks up our sleeves,” Raven replied. “But I think things might get bloody if we’re going to get any real change. I hope that we’ll see you down there soon though. That’s the endgame to this whole thing.”

 

“I hope that too,” Clarke said, emotion starting to bubble up in her chest with the enormity of what was happening. “Good luck with everything, Rey. Stay safe. The Ark and the rest of the universe need that brain of yours, and I need _all_ of you. Thank you for being a better friend than I probably deserve. I don’t know how I got so lucky.” Tears were now running down Clarke’s face.

 

“It’s me who’s the lucky one. Without you and your mom and Finn, I wouldn’t have survived.” Tears were now welling in Raven’s eyes, but she swiped them away. “Now give me a hug and let’s get this show on the road.”

 

She bent down and they embraced each other tightly.

 

“We _will_ meet again,” Raven said softly.

 

Clarke nodded, unable to speak for fear of falling apart completely.

 

They broke apart and Raven stepped back.

 

“You remember the sequence?” 

 

“Yes,” Clarke replied, pulling on the helmet and clicking it into place.

 

“And Clarke,” Raven said, smiling that dazzling smile of hers, one hand on the Pod door. “Remember to breathe.”

 

With that she closed the door over and Clarke let out a long breath, feeling her hands shaking.

 

Raven retreated and the launch room doors hissed shut behind her.

 

Clarke could hear her heart hammering in her chest, and could feel beads of sweat running down her back inside the suit. She then heard Raven’s voice coming through in her helmet.

 

“Clarke, can you hear me?”

 

“I can hear you,” she responded, her throat dry.

 

“Ok this is your thirty second warning. Opening the hatch.”

 

Clarke heard a loud hissing and saw the hatch begin to open beneath her. She looked down and saw the Earth far below. This was her first time seeing it in almost a year and even amidst her crippling fear, she marvelled once again, as she had marvelled so many times before, just how beautiful it was. And now she was going there.

  
_Oh fuck_ , she thought, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply.

 

Raven’s voice came through in her helmet again. “Starting engines. Preparing to launch.”

 

A loud roaring sound filled the space as the engines kicked in, and she felt the Pod start to shake.

 

“Launching in ten seconds...Safe passage on your travels, Clarke...Lift-off in 5...4...3...2...1___”

 

The Escape Pod rocketed out of the Ark, travelling fast across the black expanse of space. The roaring sound died down somewhat after a while and Clarke caught her breath and began to check the gauges. Everything seemed to be ok. She knew she had some time before she would reach the Earth’s atmosphere so she took a moment to look down at the planet beneath her.

 

 _So much blue_. It was hard to imagine all of that water when you had grown up in what was essentially a dry metal box in space. She imagined what it would be like to submerge her body in the ocean. A panicked thought then entered her mind as she imagined the Escape Pod landing somewhere in that blue. She prayed that didn’t happen as the irony of dying by drowning would surely be lost on her if she was no longer around to appreciate it.

 

Checking the gauges again she saw she was approaching the Earth’s atmosphere, and so began to flick the required switches as per Raven’s instructions. The Escape Pod began to shake as it left space and entered the atmosphere.

 

Suddenly a loud alarm began to sound, and Clarke noticed with horror that all the lights on the console in front of her were flashing and the gauges were swinging about wildly. She racked her brains and tried to remember Raven’s words.

 

_I’ve done everything right. I’m sure I’ve done everything right!_

 

Panic threatened to take over.

 

The Escape Pod shook more and more, buffeting Clarke around violently even within the confines of her straps. The alarm sound was deafening and every part of the Pod seemed to rattle. Clarke gripped the handles on either side of her seat, trying in vain to stop her helmeted head smashing against the headrest. It was then that she realised that the Pod was no longer upright but that she was now spinning, spinning, spinning through the sky.

 

She saw the blackness of space behind her, then the Earth below, then the blackness of space, then the Earth again, faster and faster. Her head felt like it was being pressed in a vice from the G-force.  She was starting to hyperventilate and she knew she was going to pass out.

 

What happened then was confusing and frightening. Dreamlike yet so real all at once.

 

In some recess of her mind she knew she must have lost consciousness as visions started to flash before her. Time seemed to stretch on and on as more and more pictures flooded her brain. She was back on the Ark, but in a part she had never seen before, looking through a window and watching the missiles fly across the Earth below, destroying everything and everyone. She stood beside a pretty woman with dark hair and tears streaming down her face. She saw this woman injecting herself with a black substance and wearing a spacesuit with the word ‘Commander’ on it.

 

Then suddenly Clarke was in a forest, watching a small girl with green eyes running and laughing, and being chased by an older girl with dark blonde hair and braids. She saw the child fighting other children with wooden swords, a determined look on her face as she got knocked down and got back up again.

 

The scene shifted again and she was now in a room where some kind of ceremony was taking place. The young girl was there, but she was no longer a child but was sitting as the young woman from Clarke’s dreams atop a grand throne, a red sash on her shoulder, and black paint across her eyes. Words were being spoken in a language Clarke did not understand. Gone was the sound of childhood laughter, replaced now by the sounds of grief and agony as Clarke found herself in the low candlelight of a bedchamber, watching this young woman - slightly older again now - on her knees, screaming out as she clutched a severed head. Then, a switch again, but the same room in daylight and Clarke felt herself reaching for the girl as her mouth opened to say her name - _Clarke -_  and her hand touched the place on her stomach where a bullet had just ripped through her.

  
And then Clarke was gone again, now floating through space, disconnected from her body, feeling soft hands stroking over her, running through her hair, whispers at her ear of _Clarke…..beja…..yu gonplei ste nou odon……_

   
The alarm was what she was first aware of when she came to again. It pierced through her, deafening and relentless. She blinked rapidly and tried to steady herself. She noticed that the Pod was no longer spinning, but was now plummeting rapidly towards Earth. Looking to the console she saw that the thrusters were not firing properly. She tried the sequence of switches again, and heard a roar from beneath. The Pod’s descent started to slow as the thrusters came on full blast. Clarke’s head banged with pain and her heart raced in her chest. She saw Earth coming closer and closer. She began to be able to make out details. There was an ocean to the right of her, with the sun just starting to make its way up over the horizon. She saw dense forest beneath.

 

But she realised suddenly that she was still moving too fast, that the Pod was hurtling towards the ground at a dangerous speed.

 

 _Parachute,_ she thought, remembering that Raven had said it should auto-release when the Pod was within a certain distance from the ground.

 

_Surely it has to be now. It’s going to be too late._

  
Clarke looked around at the console frantically, trying to find something that would manually release the parachute.

 

The ground was racing up towards her and at what felt like the last possible moment, she smashed her gloved hand down on a button, and felt a huge jolt as the parachute flew out from the top of the Pod. But with such little distance now left between her and the ground, this only slowed the Pod by a small margin, and the last thing Clarke remembered was the sound of breaking branches and ripping metal as she slammed into the ground with an impact that could be felt for miles around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Please leave feedback if you have a moment or head over to my [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/weasal) where I am weasal and join in with all things Clexa, Lexa and The Hunner.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so here we are, on finale day. I can't quite believe we are at the end of Season 3, and at the end of Lexa. I hope that we can keep her spirit alive through our stories, and I hope that this chapter helps with that. Thank you to everyone that has read and commented or given kudos. It really means so much, especially when you take the time to share some of your thoughts with me. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and as always you can join me over on my Tumblr where I am 'weasal', and Twitter where I am also 'weasal'. The Clexakru need to stick together after today. It really is Reshop Heda this time. I would like to promote this amazing tribute to Lexa by foomatic. Check it out - [Leksa kom Trikru](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9CllqQLlfRI) \- music by Hans Zimmer and very fitting for this chapter! I was also listening to [Elusive](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NAcP-HT_wM0) by Scott Matthews while writing this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **“So I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you.”**

 

Lexa awoke with a start. She was tangled in the furs, and her long, wild hair had fallen over her eyes. She pushed the hair off of her face and allowed her eyes to adjust to the dim light. A light breeze moved over her coming in from the slightly ajar balcony doors. Goosebumps prickled on her bare skin.

 

She sat up and wrapped one of the furs around her, swinging her legs off of the bed, and padding barefoot over to the balcony. Stepping through the doors, she took in a deep breath, appreciating the way the early morning air flowing into her lungs allowed her to regain a feeling of centeredness. The sky was just starting to lighten to the east but maintained a deep purple colour in every other direction. The city beneath was still mostly quiet, with only the faintest sounds from the very early risers starting to filter up to the Tower. Before long the streets below would be alive with market sellers setting up for the day, and smoke would start to rise from the dwellings as people prepared for the day ahead.

 

Lexa cast her eyes up to the still-dark sky. It had been a clear night and a blanket of stars could still be seen twinkling above. Her mind wandered back to the dream she had been having before she woke. It had been similar in parts to the dreams she had been having for some time now, but this time strange, new details had emerged. Some of which frightened her. Again she had seen the girl with the sun in her hair and the summer sky in her eyes, but this time she had felt a strong sense of foreboding permeating the dream. She had been trying to establish what these dreams were trying to tell her, and if they were messages coming directly from the previous Heda’s. Their meaning remained a mystery to her, but she could not deny that each night she longed that she might see the girl once again.

 

In recent months the Twelve Clans had been experiencing relative peace, mostly because of the coalition that Lexa had forged and fought for. For almost seven years now she had ruled as Heda, Commander of all those within her vast lands. She never quite thought of them as being ‘her’ lands though. They belonged to the people, her people. Not hers in the sense that she felt ownership over them either, but in the way that she was devoted to them and would do whatever was necessary to protect them. This was her duty as Heda. ‘Jus Drein Jus Daun’ had been the mantra they had lived by since the beginning, but with Lexa’s drive towards a more peaceful way of life, ‘Blood Must Have Blood’ had in recent times had to be called upon less and less. But she knew that this transition away from perpetual war was a slow process, and tensions were still always simmering just under the surface amongst the clans.

 

For now she put thoughts of politics aside, and thought again of what her dream had shown her. Images that her mind could not fully understand, flashes of technology that she was unaccustomed to, and scenarios that puzzled her. She had read many books from the Before, and had educated herself on the ways of previous civilisations. But she was also astute enough to know that there was only so much understanding that someone living in current times could have about such things. She enjoyed learning about all manner of subjects, but the majority of her focus had to be on her duties as a leader and not constantly looking back into the past. 

 

_But why does this girl keep coming to the fore in my dreams?_

 

She felt an undeniable connection to the stranger, but could not untangle the meaning. Not until now. This recent dream had shown Lexa that this girl was not of this world, or at least not of this planet. Whereas before she had seen her walking amongst her people, boots scuffing the worn earth, tonight she had seen her amongst the stars. Lexa had read many times about the people who came from the Before and their ability to travel far from Earth. She now believed this girl to be one of those people.

 

Before she could connect her thoughts any further, something caught her attention far above. To the south she saw what she initially thought to perhaps be a meteor falling from the sky. It was still high up and very far off in the distance, but as she looked further she realised that it could not be.

 

Suddenly, a bright light flashed across her vision and a sharp pain engulfed her head. She clutched her head with both hands, crying out and dropped to her knees, the fur slipping from her shoulders.

 

She was then there, with the girl, high above the Earth, but moving downward at a speed Lexa could not fully comprehend. The shaking of the small metal box was the most violent thing that Lexa had ever felt, and the velocity it was experiencing was a strange and alien concept to her. As she looked on at the girl strapped into the seat, she could see that she was not conscious, and that the…. _capsule?_   was out of control and hurtling faster and faster to the ground.

 

Lexa was not sure _how_ she knew what to do, but she knew to do it all the same. As she had done so many times before, she closed her eyes and began to center her breathing.

 

She then found herself to be in another place with the girl, their beings moving calmly together through the blackness of space. She uttered a name as if she had spoken it many times. 

 

 _Clarke_.

 

She began to whisper sweet words in her ear, and ran feather light touches through her hair. Lexa told her she must not give up, her fight was not yet over. She must - _Wake up, Clarke._

 

And just like that she was ripped from that otherworldly place and found herself back on her balcony. Vision clearing, she looked again far to the south to see that same capsule plummet to the ground, leaving a trail of fire and fumes across the sky in its wake.

 

Standing and moving inside quickly, she shouted in her loudest voice, “Guards!”

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The first thing Clarke felt when she regained consciousness was pain. Pain everywhere. The second thing she noticed was the difficulty she was having in opening her eyes. Something was making them stick together. Out of instinct she raised her right hand to her face, forgetting about her gloves and helmet. When her glove connected with her face she realised the glass face-plate must have shattered, as the rough texture of the glove hit her eyes. She pressed tentatively at them and managed to crack them open. The first thing she saw was the red of the blood now smeared on her glove.

 

 _Bleeding, but alive_ , she thought groggily.  _How in space did I make it..._

 

She took in a deep breath and cried out from the pain that seared through her chest and midsection from the action. It could be broken ribs or internal bleeding, or any number of things.She had no idea right now, she could only focus on the pain. She tried not to let the panic that was rising up inside of her take over completely. She was vaguely aware of the smell of burning, but she couldn’t work out if that was from the thrusters that had only just saved her life, or from something else. A thick, acrid taste burned the back of her throat, and smoke filled the air around her stinging her eyes. She just prayed that something wasn’t currently on fire.

 

 _I have to get out of here,_ she thought, clumsily unstrapping the velcro fastenings on her gloves and managing to slowly pull them off. Next she reached her arms up to her shattered helmet, but stopped halfway as her body screamed out in pain again. Sucking in air through her teeth she steeled herself and tried again. With the greatest of effort she gingerly removed the helmet, again feeling more sharp pain as she felt blood gush from a head injury, and from the sharp slice of glass against her face. She dropped the helmet to the floor and slowly moved her head to the right, testing for any neck injuries. There was no immediate pain so she slowly moved it to the left side.

 

 _S_ he cried out again, clutching her hand to the left side of her neck as pain shot up from her spine.

 

 _Whiplash,_ she hoped.  _From the impact. Nothing more than that, Clarke. You’re ok. Breathe, be calm._

 

Very carefully she lifted her hand up to the straps that were holding her in to the chair and pressed the release button. Nothing happened. She pressed it again, harder this time. Still nothing.

 

 _The mechanism must be jammed,_ she thought, slightly frantic. After a few more presses and some increasingly frenzied pulling, she realised she was not getting out of the straps without some help.

 

 _Think!_ She chastised herself, feeling helpless and trapped. Then it dawned on her. The supplies box. If Raven and Octavia had packed her all those other useful things, surely they would have thought to include a knife in there.

 

It was then that she tried to move her legs for the first time. And it was then that she passed out almost instantly from the white hot pain that flashed through her. Through shock or adrenaline Clarke had not noticed until that moment that half of the bottom part of the Pod had been ripped open as it crashed to the Ground, and she now had a large strip of metal embedded through her right leg.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   

 

Again she woke to pain. Except this time she was also aware of a _noise._ Her eyes remained shut as she tried to focus her thoughts, but she became acutely aware of movement close by. Her eyes flew open and she jolted back in her seat, drawing in a sharp breath as she saw a man ducking his head into the Pod, brandishing a large knife.

 

“What are you doing?” she shouted, trying not to sound afraid but failing. “Stay away!” Her eyes were wild with panic, the adrenaline once again pumping through her body.

 

The man looked terrifying to her, with a thick black tattoo running like a permanent mohawk over his otherwise bald head, and wearing a jacket made of animal skin and a necklace of what she hoped were animal bones. He had black paint smeared around his eyes on his already dark skin, and this made her fear recede a fraction. It was a different design from what she had seen in her visions, but it still reminded her of the girl. And his light brown eyes looked kind as they considered her gently.

 

He pointed to the straps that pinned her to the chair, and stepped slowly inside the Pod. They kept their eyes trained on each other as he approached, and Clarke noticed the light sheen of sweat on his head and face as he bent down to her. Slowly he slipped the knife under the right strap close to her shoulder, slicing through the material, then quickly doing the same to the left. Clarke immediately slumped forward, unable to hold herself up now that the straps were gone. He gently pressed her back against the seat and quickly scanned his eyes over her body looking for injuries. They came to rest on her right leg, and the piece of metal sticking out from it. They shared a look between each other; a silent acknowledgement of how fucked up a situation it was, for both of them.

 

“We can’t take it out here,” Clarke said, grimacing. “I could bleed to death.”

 

She realised in that moment that there was every possibility that the man did not understand English, as he had so far not said a word.

 

He nodded in response though, and gestured first to himself, then to Clarke, then to the door, and she knew he was saying he would take her outside. She gave him a small nod in response, and he took this as his permission to very gently lift her from the seat and up into his arms.

 

Unsurprisingly, Clarke passed out again.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

This time when she awoke, she was somewhere unfamiliar. Her eyes tried to focus while her brain worked to figure out where she was.

 

Her heart skipped a beat as the memories of the crash and the aftermath came back to her.

 

She became aware that she was lying on something soft and pleasantly comfortable, and in the gloomy light she seemed to be in some sort of _cave?_ From the look of the rough stone ceiling and walls it definitely seemed to fit the descriptions she had read of caves. The only light was coming from two burning torches that were positioned in small gaps in the walls. She looked down at herself. She was no longer wearing the spacesuit, and lay just in her long sleeved shirt and pants. Most of the right leg of the pants had been cut away, and the piece of metal was no longer embedded in her thigh. She lifted her head very slightly and saw what looked to be some sort of thick green paste covering the wound. Gingerly she reached her fingertips out and gently prodded around the edges of the paste.

 

She felt nothing from the prodding _._   _Some sort of local anaesthetic maybe._

 

At that moment her head whipped to the side as the man from earlier appeared through the gap in the far side of the cave. She hissed from the pain that shot up her neck.

 

“You’re awake,” he said in a rough voice, looking her over.  

 

Clarke eyed him cautiously. Although all of his actions so far had made it seem like he wanted to help her and that she could trust him, she could not let her guard down so easily. She knew nothing of this person and she had no idea what his intentions were.

 

She started to try to speak. “How….” But it came out in a hoarse crackle due to the dryness of her throat.    

 

The man moved quickly to kneel at her side, and held out an animal skin canteen to her. She took it and began to struggle to lift her head to drink, only somewhat startled when he gently slipped his hand behind her head, supporting her.

 

Once she had drank what she could manage of the water, he placed her head back down and took the canteen from her.

 

“How long was I out for?” she asked, the words coming easier now that she was hydrated.

 

“A few hours,” the man replied, remaining on his knees beside her. “How is the pain?”

 

“I can’t feel my leg right now, but everything else hurts” Clarke replied. “I think I might live though,” she finished dryly, a strange emotion washing over her.

 

“You will live,” the man said. “But you have many injuries. I have only basic healing skills, but even I can tell you this.”

 

“My leg. Has it been sutured?”

 

The man’s brows furrowed in confusion at this. “I removed the metal and applied the paste, which slows the blood flow and helps with the pain.”

 

 _A coagulant AND an anaesthetic,_ Clarke thought, impressed.

 

“The wound is probably too deep and too large for that to be enough. I need you to do me a favour.”

 

“A favour?” the man repeated back, as if the word was foreign in his mouth.

 

“I need you to help me again,” Clarke said, trying to use words that she thought would be understood. “Inside the Escape Pod where you found me, there’s a box with supplies. Medical supplies. I need you to bring them to me.”

 

The man nodded once, and rose to his feet, already making his way out.

 

“I haven’t even thanked you,” she called, raising her head up to look at him. “You’ve probably saved my life and I don’t even know your name.”

 

The man looked back towards her slightly and said gruffly, “Lincoln”, before quickly disappearing from the cave again.  

 

Clarke lay her head back down and winced at all of her aches and pains.

 

 _As in Abraham…._ the thought floated across her mind, which felt foggy yet still reeled at everything that had occurred in her short time on Earth.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Clarke became vaguely aware of a commotion in some other part of the cave. She thought she must have slept again as she had no concept of how much time had passed since….. _Lincoln_ ….had left. She could hear raised voices, but they were muffled and quite possibly not speaking in English.

 

She started to try to sit up, feeling defenceless and vulnerable from her position on the ground. She managed onto one elbow, closing one eye at the fresh waves of pain that came from her head, her ribs, her leg….basically everywhere. Her eyes scanned around, trying to see if there was anything she could use as a weapon. But not only was there nothing, she was also acutely aware that in this state she wouldn’t have a hope in hell of wielding anything. She would need to grit her teeth and face her fate, whatever it was.

 

She realised she could no longer hear the muffled shouting. Lincoln appeared at the entrance, carrying a large sack over his shoulder. He walked over to where she lay, placing the bag down beside her.  

 

“What was happening out there? I heard voices.” 

 

“It was Anya, the leader of my clan, and her scouts. Looking for you,” he replied, kneeling on the ground and starting to pull things from the sack. “I brought you the supplies from your….Escape Pod?” he added, uncertainty in his voice at the strange words.

 

Clarke nodded. “Thank you. Did you bring everything from the box?”

 

“Yes. I knew that Anya’s scouts would arrive soon, so there would not have been another chance to retrieve them. There was one item I could not bring, however.” 

 

For some reason, she thought she knew. “The gun?” 

 

Lincoln nodded. “It is forbidden for Trikru to hold Maunon’s weapons. It will have to remain where it is for now.”

 

Clarke listened and tried to process her thoughts. “Trikru….” she said, repeating the unfamiliar word. “Is that your clan? The clan that this Anya is the leader of?”

 

Lincoln dipped his head slightly in reply.

 

“And who or what are Maunon?” she asked.

 

Lincoln brought his eyes slowly up to Clarke’s. “They are our greatest enemy, and who Anya thinks you are. I convinced them that when I reached the Escape Pod, I found it empty, as they did when they reached it. My dwelling here is much closer to your crash site than our village where they came from, so once they visited the site, they came to me looking for answers. She believes that I know nothing more, but she was angry that I failed to go to the village to report my findings. They now search for whoever came down with that Pod.”

 

Clarke stared at him, her throat feeling very dry. “How do they know someone was even in there? It could easily have been automatically piloted? Some kind of supplies drop?” she finished, knowing even as she said it how ridiculous it sounded.

 

Lincoln’s face reflected her thoughts. “We may not have knowledge of your technology, Skai Girl, but they will know there was someone in that Escape Pod by your blood that pools on the floor and smears the surfaces.”

 

Clarke grimaced and looked away. “Fair enough.” She paused before looking back again at him again. “Why don’t _you_ think I’m one of these _Maunon_ then, and why did you lie to them about me being here with you?”

 

“Because I saw you fall from the sky, and the Maunon do not fly. They also cannot walk amongst us without their skin turning to crackling, yet you breathe normally and do not resemble a pig on a spit. And because if I had told my kin that you were here, they would have killed you,” Lincoln replied, passing her the water skin again on seeing her swallow thickly. “I am tired of death. And so, you must heal yourself now, Skai Girl.” He gestured to the medical supplies box now out of the sack and sitting on the ground.

 

“It’s Clarke. My name is Clarke Griffin.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

With help from Lincoln, she spent the next hour trying her best to treat her leg wound. After Lincoln helped to clean the thick paste away, she could see that the gash was not only long but very deep as well, and she could clearly see the muscle tissue underneath. She injected the area with a local anaesthetic syringe from the medical box. She was infinitely thankful to Raven in that moment for thinking to pack them, as she didn’t think she could have managed to stitch herself up without the numbing effect, and the paste would have hindered the process too much. She still had to grit her teeth throughout the suture procedure, mostly due to the energy it took out of her, and her stomach rolling over from nausea. She tried not to think too much about any concussion that she might have, or the possibility of internal injuries. She focused solely on getting the job on her leg done. There wasn’t much she could do about the other things anyway. She knew her stitching was clumsy and unprofessional, and the scar she would be left with would be large and probably ugly, but at least the wound was closed and would hopefully heal.

 

When she had tied off the last stitch and hastily taped a bandage over the area, she collapsed back onto the furs beneath her, all of her energy now sapped, and any adrenaline she might have been holding onto now long gone.

 

Lincoln, who had been at her side for the entire procedure, removed the suture kit and scissors from where she had dropped them and at her request, took them into the other room to sterilise over the fire. When he returned he was holding a small bowl with steam rising from it.

 

“You should drink this,” he said, kneeling to gently lift her head. “It is a tea that will help you sleep.”

 

Clarke sipped the tea, which was hot but not scalding. It felt so good to have something warm in her stomach, even if the tea tasted somewhat bitter.

 

After she had drank as much as she could manage, Lincoln laid her head back down and noticing that she was shivering, he pulled a fur over the top of her.

 

“You are a skilled healer, Clarke.” He looked down at her with his kind brown eyes.

 

“Not really,” she replied quietly. “My mother is the doctor. I just studied what she did.”

 

She felt groggy and so so tired. Her eyes pulled closed just as she managed to say, “Thank you, Linc…”

 

“Sleep now,” he said softly, before rising and leaving the room.

 

As Clarke drifted off to sleep she realised that it wouldn’t have been Raven who had packed the medical supplies. It would of course have been her mother.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

She awoke the next day, after sleeping a dreamless sleep for over twelve hours, although she herself had no concept of how long she had slept or what time of day it was. Inside this part of the cave there was no way of telling.

 

She blinked a few times, adjusting her eyes to the low light of the still flaming torches. For the first few moments of consciousness she had no idea where she was, her mind automatically snapping back to her solitary cell on the Ark.

 

As the memories of the past day came back to her she let out a shaky breath, and tentatively stretched her limbs, testing her aches and pains.

 

 _Yup, still in agony just about everywhere_ , she thought. Although she felt as though some of the pain had become slightly duller, and she definitely felt at least partly refreshed from the sleep.

 

She sat up slowly, clutching her hand to her left side as her ribs twinged. She was certain now that she had broken at least one or two, but it was hard to know exactly what was going on in there. She reached down with her right hand to peek under the bandage over her leg wound. Thankfully the sutures seemed to have stayed intact throughout her sleep. She imagined she probably hadn’t moved around too much, what with the sleep tea Lincoln had given her, and all the injuries her body would be trying to keep her mindful of. She reached over for the waterskin and drank its contents down in long gulps. Placing it back on the ground she realised how much she needed to pee.

 

 _Oh boy, gotta go,_ she thought, ungracefully dragging herself up into a standing position, trying to keep her injured leg straight. A wave of dizziness hit her as she stood upright and she had to put a hand out on the wall to steady herself.

 

At that moment Lincoln came into the room, looking surprised to see her up, and moved quickly to her side.

 

“You shouldn’t be up,” he said, putting his arm around her to allow her to lean on him.

 

“Nature calls,” she replied with a small smile and a shrug.

 

“Ok, let me help you get outside.” He helped her to step into her boots, then slowly manoeuvred them across the cave.

 

She limped along, feeling every bit the battered and broken victim of a high speed crash to Earth.

 

Lincoln’s cave was more homely than she was expecting. There was a fire burning low in a drum that had a pot hanging over it and a wire grill laid across it for cooking. Around the fire were a few low wooden stools with animal hides draped over them, and there were some gaps in the walls here allowing daylight to filter through. They finally made it over to where a large animal skin hung over the entrance to the cave. Lincoln swept it back and they shuffled outside into the early morning light.

 

Clarke squinted. The bright daylight felt harsh on her eyes after being in semi-darkness for the past day. As they adjusted and she looked around, her breath caught in her throat.

 

“Wow,” she said eventually, casting her eyes up at the tall trees that surrounded the cave. She felt a sense of pure wonder as a warm breeze moved across her face and the sun that filtered through the canopy warmed her body. Even the crunch of twigs and sponginess of moss and grass beneath her boots was a complete novelty that left her feeling breathless with amazement. And the noises…...she could hear birds singing and calling out to each other, and the low level hum of insects. Clarke thought that it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard.

 

Lincoln allowed her to have a moment to take it all in, eyeing her curiously, before saying, “You can go behind those rocks.” He gestured to where some large boulders sat in front of the outer cave wall.

 

“Thank you,” Clarke said, tearing her eyes away from the forest, and limping away to relieve herself. It turned out to be quite the challenge but she managed, and Lincoln was waiting to help her back inside.

 

They then sat together by the fire and Lincoln served her a bowl of rabbit and vegetable stew that he had prepared earlier. She hadn’t realised how ravenous she was until the first spoonful of delicious flavours hit her tongue.

 

“Thish ish delishush,” she said looking at Lincoln with her mouth full.

 

Lincoln just nodded, his eyes sparkling a little, and continued to eat from his own bowl.

 

“Once you've eaten, you may want to clean yourself up. I'll bring you warm water and soap. There's clothing in your supplies, which I think you might need.” He nodded at her tattered and bloody pants. Only one leg remained after he had cut off the other to remove the metal from her thigh.

 

“Getting cleaned up sounds great,” she replied, placing her now empty bowl on the ground. “And once I’ve done that, you need to take me back to the Escape Pod.”

 

Lincoln frowned. “That’s impossible. It's too dangerous. Anya and the others will still be looking for you.”

 

She sighed, running her hand through her matted and blood-encrusted hair. “I know. But I have to risk it. There’s a radio in that Pod and my friends will be waiting to hear from me. I need to let them know that I made it. As it is, they probably already think that I didn’t with the amount of time that’s passed since I left. My mother is up there, Lincoln. I can’t let her think that I’m dead.”

 

His face was serious when he asked her, “Where did you come from, Clarke?” 

 

“From a space station called the Ark. It orbits two hundred and twenty miles above the Earth. It’s all we’ve ever known. All I’ve ever known….until now.”

 

He looked at her with that serious expression for long moments.

 

“Get cleaned up, then we’ll talk about getting to that radio” he said finally, standing.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Lincoln appeared holding a bucket of steaming warm water and clutching various other items in his arms.

 

He set the bucket and a rusty, old mirror on the ground and handed her a wedge of soap and two clean rags.  

 

Lifting the soap to her face she inhaled deeply. "What _is_ that?" she asked, the sweet aroma enveloping her senses. 

 

"Honey and vanilla," he answered gruffly, before mumbling something about being nearby if she needed him, and walking out. 

 

She gingerly peeled her dirty clothes off, grimacing every time she had to bend or stretch. Once she was naked she scanned her eyes over her body and gasped. Not only was the leg injury gruesome enough, she also had a huge black bruise blooming out from her left side, covering most of her rib cage and around to her back. Again thoughts of internal injuries flitted through her mind, but she pushed them away, sure that it was only the broken ribs that had caused the bruising.

 

When she lifted the mirror to her face she gasped again.

 

“Stars,” she breathed out, shocked at her appearance. She had multiple small cuts on her cheeks and nose, presumably where the glass from the helmet’s face-plate had sliced into her. Two black eyes stared back at her, and as she gently prodded her tender nose she realised it was probably broken. A deep gash ran diagonally across her forehead and she could feel another at the back of her head, but she noticed now that Lincoln must have also treated these with the paste when she had been unconsciousness, as she saw and felt remnants of the substance smeared over the wounds. Her usually healthy looking blonde hair was now matted and dirty with dried blood.

 

She sighed, almost wishing that she hadn’t looked at herself.

 

She bathed as quickly as her injuries would allow, wincing as she washed over her cuts and bruises, but enjoying the feeling of removing the blood and grime from her body and hair. She slipped on some clothes from the supplies sack; a stretchy pair of black jeans that fit snugly over the bandage on her thigh, a soft blue long-sleeved top, and she finished by pulling her boots back on her feet, and slipping her old leather jacket over her shoulders. It felt good to wear familiar clothes and again she thought of her mother, and how she would likely have passed these items to Raven to pack into the Escape Pod.

 

“We wait until nightfall to make the journey to the radio,” Lincoln said when Clarke returned to the fire area.

 

“So you’ll take me?” she asked, feeling more and more gratitude towards this man who had already done so much for her.

 

“I will. But we must use the cover of darkness to give us the best chance of getting there unseen. Anya and her scouts will likely have given up their search for the day by then. With you being so….weak, we can only hope to move at a snail’s pace.”

 

Clarke raised her eyebrows at this. “I might not have seen a real snail before, but I’m not going to be _that_ slow.”

 

A small smile tugged at the corner of Lincoln’s mouth. “You will be slow, Clarke.”

 

She smiled back at him, shaking her head.

 

Clarke was aware of just how lucky she had been so far. Surviving the journey to Earth, and then being taken in by Lincoln…..it felt as though something or someone was looking out for her. She just hoped that her luck wasn’t about to run out.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Lincoln had insisted that Clarke stay hidden in the back of the cave until nightfall, so she spent most of the day sorting through her supplies and trying to pass the time. She inventoried everything that was there and was pleased to find numerous useful items, and even a few luxuries. One of those luxuries was a small sketchbook and pencil, so for the latter part of the afternoon she began a portrait of Lincoln, and various sketches of what she had seen so far. As she shaded the trees and added in more details from the forest, her mind began to wander to where it usually did lately when she was drawing. But this time the memories of the descent came back to her, and the visions flashed in front of her again. Before she realised it she was drawing the figure of the girl again, standing atop her tower, watching as Clarke’s Escape Pod dropped to Earth…..

 

Clarke frowned as she looked at the drawing, trying to recall other memories that seemed to be just out of her reach.

 

At that moment Lincoln appeared, clutching what looked to be a large wooden stick.

 

“This should help,” he said, holding it out to Clarke.

 

She saw that he had carved it into something resembling a crutch, with a handle for her to grasp and a smooth slope to fit under her arm.

 

“Time to go.” He bent down and helped her to stand. “Stay close to me and try to be as quiet as possible. If you see me stop, you stop. If I drop to the ground, do the same."

 

Clarke nodded, trying out the crutch for size. “Thanks for making me this. Just wait 'til you see this snail go,” she added, smiling.

 

He returned her smile, but there was anxiety in his eyes as he turned to the entrance.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Their walk, or in Clarke’s case, hobble through the forest was slow yet uneventful. Uneventful in terms of threats but for Clarke it was bursting with awe-inspiring sights and sounds. Listening to the cacophony of night sounds that surrounded them, she felt all of her senses awaken in a way that she had never experienced before. A crescent moon hung in the sky overhead and she noticed glowing eyes a few times in the trees, watching them as they passed.

 

She felt awkward on the crutch at first, but after a while she began to get the hang of it and thought she had picked the pace up enough to keep Lincoln from being completely exasperated with her. He constantly scanned the trees and their surroundings, and they frequently stopped when he would hold his hand up to listen to some noise that Clarke hadn’t even heard. She was thankful that the terrain had mostly been flat, although she was still breathing heavily with the exertion, and a thin sheen of sweat coated her skin as she tried to ignore the painful messages her body was sending her.

 

As they reached the edge of a group of particularly tall trees, Lincoln stopped again and this time turned to Clarke, speaking in hushed tones. “The Escape Pod is just over the brow of that small hill up ahead. Wait here while I check that it's safe.”

 

Clarke nodded and watched him run off, quickly losing sight of him as he disappeared into the darkness.

 

It was long minutes before he returned, and Clarke was acutely aware of how exposed she was while she waited. She let out a breath of relief when she saw him moving towards her again.

 

“We appear to be alone,” he said quietly when he reached her. “But it would not be wise for us to stay too long. Use your radio quickly and we will return to my dwelling.”  

 

Clarke moved herself as quickly as she could up the small hill. On reaching the crest she looked down and saw the Escape Pod below, sitting in a burnt-out and flattened patch of the forest and looking very worse for wear. Again she thanked her lucky stars that she survived the crash, as from where she was standing it didn’t seem possible.

 

On reaching the Pod, she peered inside at the radio. She was aware of Lincoln prowling the perimeter of the crash site, listening and watching for anything that might approach.

 

Before she did anything else she pulled open the metal box on the back wall and lifted out the only item that remained. The gun. She didn’t particularly want to take it, the thought of it making her uncomfortable, but she knew she would be safer if she had it. She tucked it into the inside pocket of her jacket, and silently prayed she would never have to use it.

 

Turning her attention back to the radio, she reached in and lifted the receiver, looking for any sign of life on the console. None of the lights were on and she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach.

 

 _What if it’s been too damaged in the crash?_ she thought with some despair.

 

But as she pressed the receiver button, she heard static. Her heart began to beat faster with relief and anticipation. _Sounds promising._ She reached over and made sure the channel was set to 7 as Raven had instructed.

 

She pressed the button again. “Raven, it’s Clarke." She paused. “Come in, Raven, it’s Clarke. Do you read me?” She waited, holding her breath.

 

No response.

 

 _Again,_ she thought.

 

“Raven, this is Clarke, do you read me? I made it. I’m on the ground and I’m safe.”

 

A beat, then….

 

“Copy, Clarke, I read you!” Raven’s voice, crackly and faint but sounding so so perfect to Clarke in that moment. Her heart soared. “Are you ok? Why has it taken you so long to make contact? We thought you were done for,” her old friend continued, emotion coming through in her voice even over the tinny airwaves.

 

Tears pricked at Clarke’s eyes and she let out a happy sob. “I’m ok. I had a bumpy landing. Got a bit banged up. Someone helped…..”

 

“Clarke!” Lincoln’s voice shouted from her right, at the same time as she felt a sharp pain in her left shoulder.

 

Everything that happened next unfolded in a dizzying blur.

 

She looked down to see an arrow protruding from her. She looked up again to see Lincoln running towards her, catching her just as her knees gave way onto the grass, the receiver forgotten and dangling inside the Pod.

 

Clarke could faintly hear Raven’s voice. “Clarke! Come in, Clarke! Do you copy? Clarke!”

 

A moment later Lincoln was being kicked in the face by a large man with long dark hair and a beard. He went sprawling backwards and the man put a sword to his throat, pinning him in place. Clarke saw at least six more people appearing from the trees, forming a circle around them.

 

A woman with dark blonde, wavy hair and sharp features stepped forward, sword drawn. 

 

 _Why are you so familiar?_  Clarke thought. 

 

The woman began shouting angrily in a language that Clarke could not understand, her words seemingly directed at Lincoln. He looked back at her with defiant eyes, replying in their language.

 

She strode forward and added her own sword to his neck, a furious look on her face.

 

As if on autopilot, Clarke reached into her jacket with her right hand and withdrew the gun.

 

“Stop!” she shouted, pointing the gun at the woman, who Clarke was now sure was the leader, Anya, who Lincoln had described to her earlier.

 

All eyes turned to Clarke, whose arm was shaking in its efforts to hold the gun straight.

 

Then just as quickly as everyone had looked to Clarke, they turned their attention to the right of the clearing where the thunder of horses hooves could be heard coming towards them.

 

Suddenly they were surrounded by two dozen riders on horseback. Clarke felt herself breathless at the sight.

 

But nothing could have prepared her for what she saw next.

 

There _she_ was, in all of her war-painted glory.  

 

Sitting astride a beautiful white horse was the girl she had drawn and dreamed about so many times. Her eyes flashed wildly in the moonlight, and her long dark hair flew out behind her as she brought the horse to an abrupt halt.

 

Green eyes locked with blue. Time seemed to stop for a moment and it was as if the sounds of the forest were on pause.

 

Nobody moved a muscle.

 

Clarke’s heart thundered in her chest and her vision started to cloud.

 

Then, a shocked sounding, “Heda_” came from Anya. 

 

The last thing Clarke remembered seeing was the blur of the girl jumping from her horse and beginning to run towards her.

 

Clarke felt her eyes roll back in her head and she slumped forward onto the grass, the pain from the arrow wound finally overwhelming her, and sending her into blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise that Lincoln does not in fact have a tattooed mohawk but I liked the idea of it so decided to give him one! Thanks for reading. Please leave me some feedback if you have a second. 
> 
> Tumblr - [weasal](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/weasal)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the time it took to update. Life has been very busy and it can be a real pain at getting in the way of writing! Thanks as always to those who have taken the time to read, comment, leave kudos etc. It's just the greatest thing to know that people are reading and enjoying it so far. I hope everyone is doing alright out there this week. It's been a tough one. Know you are loved and you are not alone. This chapter is dedicated to Orlando. I have been mostly listening to Tree Adam's score from the finale and in particular 'I Will Always Be With You'. Sigh. You can find it on my Soundcloud [here](https://soundcloud.com/heda-lexa/tree-adams-i-will-always-be-with-you?in=luis-pquis/sets/clexa)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **Tell me the story of how the Sun loved the Moon so much, one died every night to let the other breathe.**
> 
>  

 

Lexa paced back and forth across the large tent, as she had been more or less doing for the past two hours. A hard line was set into her forehead and her jaw ached from being held so tightly.

 

Her head snapped around to the sound of someone pulling back the canvas that covered the entrance. Anya stepped inside.

 

“Any change?” Lexa asked in Trigedasleng, halting her pacing.

 

“No, Heda,” Anya responded, shaking her head. “The veida remains unconscious.”  

 

“Then why do you come to me again, Anya?” Lexa asked angrily, fixing her old Mentor with a cold stare. “I have little desire to look at you right now, and I thought I had already made this plain.”

 

If Anya bristled at this she did not let the reaction show on her face. She was as good, if not better than Lexa at hiding her emotions and willing her face to remain as unreadable as a stone. And she had after all, passed on this skill to Lexa in her younger years.

 

“Heda,” she began, as Lexa resumed her pacing. “Leksa,” she tried again, using her Commander’s given name, her way of trying to appeal to the softer side of the girl who used to be her Second. “You still have not told me why you insist on protecting this person. She trespassed on our lands and threatened me with a weapon of the Maunon. We must consider her an enemy.”

 

Again Lexa fixed her steely glare on her. “Do not presume to tell me how I should proceed, Anya,” she said, raising her voice. “You forget yourself. I am your Heda and you are my subordinate. You will treat me as such and not as the Second that you still view me as even after all these years.”

 

Anya did bristle at this, but only with the briefest flash of her eyes. She was taken aback at Lexa’s response, having rarely ever been spoken to in such a way in all the time that Lexa had held the role of Heda. It was true though. As much as she treated Lexa’s leadership with ultimate respect, and deferred to her in almost all things, she did still think of her as that little girl who she would chase through the forest. Tumbling to the ground together in a heap, little Lexa laughing with her perpetually skinned knees and wild hair. Anya allowing those moments of childishness and levity when her Second was still so young, as she knew that it would be only too soon before there was little chance to revel in lightness.

 

She had always known that Lexa would ascend to the great heights that she now had, even when she was that tiny child who was more interested in climbing trees and looking at the stars, than learning the art of battle or the histories of their world. Even then she was special. But as the years had wore on, something changed in Lexa, and long before her ascension day she had become serious and focused. By the time she reached adolescence she was already a formidable warrior who could knock most men twice her size to their knees, and who would command attention and respect from those older and purportedly wiser.

 

“I mean only to protect my kru, Heda,” Anya stated calmly, keeping her voice even. “We do not know this person, and I acted only as I would have expected you to in any other circumstance.”

 

Lexa expelled a long breath and met her eyes again, this time with a slightly softer look. She knew Anya could often be rash and somewhat bloodthirsty, but ultimately would only ever act in the best interests of Trigedakru.

 

“I know, and I apologise for my….tone. Clarke is not however, our enemy.” Lexa’s eyes widened slightly at the realisation of the name rolling off her tongue, looking surprised at the ease at which it came to mind and then left her mouth.

 

Anya also looked taken aback by the familiarity. “How do you know of this person, Heda? How do you know her name?”

 

Lexa turned and walked to the jug of water that sat at the edge of the tent, pouring herself a cup and drinking it down in long gulps.

 

“I cannot tell you the answer to that that right now,” she said, facing her again, “but I ask that you trust me and treat her as a guest of mine. I am putting her under my personal protection. Let Trikru know that to hurt her again is to hurt me. I believe she will have a substantial healing process ahead to recover from all of her injuries, and it is here in Tondisi that she will remain to do that. As leader of the clan I expect you to support me fully in this decision, and to offer her whatever you have available to you to return her to full health.”

 

Lexa looked at Anya expectantly, as the older woman stood straight backed and attempted not to belie her feelings on her face. But Lexa could see her discomfort. They both knew each other as well as was possible, and as adept as Anya was at masking her emotions, Lexa could always read them.

 

After a pause, Anya spoke. “I live under your command, Heda, and if this is what you wish, it shall be done. Nyko is our best healer and he will be assigned to stay with her until she recovers. He has administered the antidote but the poison from the arrow wound will still have to work its way out of her system. She has a long night ahead of her, but he assures me she will survive.”

 

Lexa nodded. “And the wound itself? And her other injuries sustained from the crash?”

 

“The wound has been sealed with fire. He reports that long term damage to the shoulder will be difficult to determine until later. He seemed most impressed with the healing she had already performed on her leg wound from the time spent with Lincoln. I believe this….Clarke….already has an admirer amongst us.” Anya allowed herself a small quirk of a smile, but this was not returned by Lexa who remained serious and lost in thought.

 

“What do you intend on doing with Lincoln?” Lexa asked, clasping her hands behind her back.

 

Anya’s face darkened. “He will face the Trikru fate of all traitors. He lied to me, his leader, and he harboured a veida.”

 

Lexa’s eyebrow quirked.

 

“Who we _thought_ was a veida at the time,” Anya added. “I cannot be seen to be lenient in this. The safety of the village and the entire clan could have been compromised.”

 

“Very well,” Lexa said. “I will not interfere in Trikru matters. Do as you see fit.” She began to make her way to the entrance. “I am going to get an update from Nyko.”

 

Anya nodded, stepping aside to allow Lexa to pass.

 

Just before Lexa stepped out into the night air, she turned slightly and said, “I know it is hard to trust me over this Anya, but all I ask is that you try. Some things cannot be explained immediately. But you know I will confide in you once I am able.”

 

And with that the Commander left the tent.

 

Anya stood for a moment before sighing and heading out to tend to her own business.

 

* * *

 

Clarke was delirious. The poison raged through her bloodstream and her body attempted to sweat it out, causing her to thrash and moan and flit in and out of consciousness. Her feverish mind took her back to her descent to Earth, re-playing those images of the bombs going off over and over again. When Lexa re-entered the small hut she was shocked at Clarke’s appearance and obvious distress and called for Nyko to do something to ease her suffering.

 

“Sha, Heda,” the healer replied, busying himself with preparing yet another soothing tea to try to get Clarke to take. “She is working hard to rid her body of the poison, but the pain she is suffering is making the process harder for her.”

 

“Pain?” Lexa asked, frowning. “From the shoulder wound and previous injuries?”

 

Nyko moved to place another cold compress to Clarke’s forehead in an effort to cool her down.

 

“Partly from the physical injuries, yes. Her body has suffered many blows. But she suffers trauma in her mind right now. The fever is making her delirious and there is nothing I can give her that will provide comfort until it passes.”

 

Clarke groaned, her eyes moving rapidly beneath her eyelids and Lexa looked on with a furrowed brow.

 

“Heda, if I may make a suggestion….” Nyko said, bowing his head slightly as he did so.

 

Lexa nodded at the healer, giving permission for him to speak.

 

“The girl was speaking earlier, in her sleep. Most of it unintelligible to me with my limited knowledge of Gonasleng. But there was one word she said that I recognised.”

 

“Tell me,” Lexa said softly.

 

Nyko looked up at his Commander. “Lexa.”

 

Lexa’s lips parted almost imperceptibly and her eyes shifted back to Clarke.

 

“Somehow she knows you, Heda,” Nyko continued, “And while I would not speculate on how this is possible, perhaps it may help if you stayed a while with her?”

 

Lexa could feel her heart-rate pick up, a feeling she was not overly familiar with when it was related to nerves and uncertainty. Regularly her heart would race after a hard-won fight, or just before battle. But that was purely adrenaline. This was something altogether more foreign to her, and harder to control.  

 

She took a deep breath and nodded at Nyko, which he took as his cue to leave the hut, dipping his head at her as he left.

 

Lexa moved slowly to the side of the bed where Clarke lay.

 

 _Perhaps writhed would be a better description rather than lay_ , she thought to herself, as Clarke took big stuttering breaths, and seemed to be in a constant state of motion under the blanket that covered her legs and lower torso. 

 

Initially Lexa just stood there, unsure of what she should do, her eyes looking pained as she surveyed Clarke’s flushed and sweaty face with the angry head wound and the multitude of cuts and bruises.

 

Noticing that there was a small stool in the corner, Lexa quickly removed her sword and shoulder pauldron, before placing the seat next to the bed and sitting down.

 

Clarke’s groaning became louder and her breathing shallow, and again Lexa saw her eyes moving rapidly underneath her eyelids. She saw her gripping on to the blanket so tightly that her knuckles were white.

 

With equal parts trepidation and certainty, Lexa very gently placed her hand over one of Clarke’s balled up fists. She didn’t realise she was holding her breath until she noticed that Clarke had stopped groaning, and the hut became silent but for their breathing. Slowly Clarke unclenched her fists and her breathing evened out. Lexa began to rub her thumb softly over the top of Clarke’s hand, trying her best to do what she thought might soothe the other girl. With her other hand she lifted the compress from Clarke’s forehead and gently wiped at the tear tracks on her cheeks and the sweat on her brow and temples, before placing it back on her head. She touched the back of her hand to Clarke’s face and found her to be hot, but perhaps not quite as hot or feverish as before.

 

When she went to pull her hand away from Clarke’s cheek, the unconscious girl made a grumbling sound and tilted her face over as if to chase the touch again.

 

Lexa froze, her hand in mid-air. Gently she placed her hand once again on Clarke’s face, and the grumbling stopped.

 

Lexa was transfixed by the girl who now lay still in front of her. It had been a long time since she had taken care of someone in such a personal way. Of course it was her duty as Heda to care for all of her people, but usually this was done in a much less direct fashion. By some strange turn of events, the past few days had now led her to this moment. Soothing a complete stranger who had fallen from the sky.

 

Lexa studied Clarke’s face again and noticed her eyes had stilled in their movements. She thought back to a few hours earlier and the moments that she had looked right into those eyes, before Clarke had collapsed to the forest floor.

 

At the memory of this, Lexa’s stomach flipped. She could not remember seeing such intensity before.

 

 _Like the ocean staring back at me,_ she thought.

 

Having made the decision to stay in the small hut at Clarke’s side until morning, Leksa kom Trikru, Commander of the Twelve Clans began to talk.

 

She spoke in soft Trigedasleng, telling Clarke stories of her childhood, of riding horses and chasing rabbits. She told her the famous legends of the Woods Clan, of the magical creatures that the children believed to live in the trees. She told her of swimming in the ocean and jumping from the waterfall and running your hand through the tall grass in the field as butterflies flitted around you in the late summer sun.

 

She told her of meteor showers seen from mountain tops and climbing the highest tree to see if you could catch the moon.

 

She told her of how beautiful Earth was.

 

And all the while she kept her hands on Clarke, soothing her more with every stroke of a thumb.

 

Many hours later when she came to the end of her stories, she very quietly sang Clarke the lullaby that was one of the few memories she had of her mother.

 

Lexa knew that things would be different with the dawn of the new day, but for that long feverish night, for the first time in many years, she was not the Commander.

 

She was just Leksa, and she was with Clarke.

 

* * *

 

Clarke woke just before dawn. As she slowly came to consciousness her mind struggled to place the events of the past few days.

 

Her eyes flitted open to the dull grey of the hut in the early morning light. She swallowed thickly, her throat as dry as it had ever felt.

 

She felt something touching her neck and her right hand, so she turned her head slightly to see what it was. Beside her she saw the sleeping form of the girl, head laying on the bed near Clarke’s waist, her body slumped over still sitting on the stool. She had a hand laced in Clarke’s, and another resting up at her neck, slightly tangled in her hair.

 

 _It’s you,_ Clarke thought, somehow startled but also...not; memories of the Escape Pod and the arrow coming back to her.

 

Her breath hitched in her throat as the enormity of everything hit her all at once. She was here, a lone traveller from space, now on Earth. She had almost been killed a few times over in the past two days.

 

But all of that paled into insignificance when faced with the feeling of warm fingers touching her neck, and the sight of a slightly smudged war-painted face lying cheek down just inches from her own.

 

She raked her eyes over what she could see of the face.

 

_You look peaceful in your sleep. Younger than you did last night when you rode in looking like a warrior queen._

 

Clarke longed to see those shining green eyes again. Their startling colour was seared into her memory and was the last thing she could remember until now.

 

 _Although, although_ , she thought, something tugging at the fringes of her mind, _Something else…...a presence, a comfort, a healing touch. And a voice._ She could remember more.

 

As if sensing Clarke’s thoughts, Lexa slowly opened her eyes.

 

For the second time in less than a day, their gaze met and it felt like time stood still. Both girls held their breaths and just stared at one another for a long moment.

 

Until Lexa seemingly became hyper-aware of her hands all tangled up in Clarke, and her rather undignified position of being squashed face first into the bed.

 

She withdrew her hands and sat up, self-consciously and therefore uncharacteristically, wiping at her mouth.

 

Clarke instantly missed her touch.  

 

“You’re awake,” Lexa stated, drawing herself up to a straight backed position, the stoic mask replacing the softer look from a moment ago.

 

Clarke licked her lips, trying to get some moisture on them to speak. “And so are you,” she replied croakily, shifting a little in her position and then grimacing with the fresh blooms of pain she felt throughout her body.  

 

Clarke saw Lexa swallow and blink, but remain otherwise impassive.

 

“I apologise. I did not intend on falling asleep. I only meant to keep watch over you.”

 

Clarke smiled slightly. “Thank you. You have a nice voice.”

 

At this Lexa definitely did show some emotion on her face, as a light blush formed on her cheekbones.

 

“I thought you were unconscious?” she asked, eyebrow quirking.

 

“I don’t know what I was,” Clarke responded. “I just know that you were here and it helped.”  

 

Lexa swallowed again, looking at her with something in her eyes that Clarke couldn’t figure out.  

 

Just as it looked like Lexa was about to speak, Nyko appeared in the doorway.

 

Clarke flinched a little at the sight of the large man with the face tattoos.

 

Lexa stood quickly and moved to put on her shoulder pauldron and sword.

 

Clarke felt herself deflate as the moment between them melted away.

 

“Commander,” Nyko said, inclining his head.

 

 _Commander?_ Clarke thought, trying to piece things together but feeling muddled with the visions and all of the new information she was trying to absorb.  

 

Lexa made to move towards the door, but stopped at the foot of Clarke’s bed. Even with slightly frizzy hair and a still red cheek from her face being pressed into the bed, Clarke was struck by how incredibly regal and powerful she looked. Clarke had never seen anyone look like that before. The Chancellors of the Ark had certainly never exuded such presence to her in all the years she had lived there.

 

“I must go and tend to some other issues now,” Lexa said, looking intently at Clarke once again. “Nyko is one of our best healers and will help you with anything you might need. You should know that you have nothing to fear from my people, Clarke. You will be safe here now.”

 

“Did Lincoln tell you my name?” Clarke asked, ignoring how her heart had skipped a beat at hearing how Lexa said it.

 

Lexa stiffened, looking unsure of how to answer. “Did he tell you mine?”

 

Clarke frowned at this, confused.

 

Before she could respond, Nyko cleared his throat and said, “Forgive me, Heda, but Lincoln is the reason I disturbed you. Anya is about to begin administering the cuts and has requested that you are present.”

 

Lexa nodded, but continued to hold her gaze for a moment longer.

 

“Wait, what?” Clarke said, trying to push herself up into a sitting position. “What cuts? What’s happening to Lincoln?”

 

“Lincoln disobeyed his clan leader and is being punished accordingly. It is our custom to deliver a certain amount of cuts, the number of which is decided by the leader of Trikru,” Lexa responded nonchalantly, as if she was talking about going for a walk in the forest.

 

“Anya,” Clarke said through gritted teeth.

 

“Yes."

 

“But that isn’t fair. Lincoln only tried to help me. It was me who pointed a gun at Anya and it was me who caused all of this mess in the first place.”

 

“This is our custom, Clarke. There is nothing you can do.” 

 

“Like hell there isn’t.” She swung her legs to the floor and pushed herself to standing. Immediately she felt woozy but she willed herself to remain on her feet.

 

Nyko moved towards her and tried to take her elbow but she shrugged him off. He passed her a cup of water and said gruffly in English, “Drink.”

 

Clarke snatched the cup from him and glugged the water down. She turned to the Commander. “I won’t just stand back and allow Lincoln to be killed for something that I did,” she said, glaring.

 

Lexa’s lips twitched slightly. “He is not being killed, Clarke. Merely punished. He will live and you can continue to wallow in your misplaced guilt if you wish.”  

 

Clarke felt enraged by the way Lexa was speaking to her. How could this be the same person that only moments before she had felt so close to?

 

“Your punishments are barbaric, _Lexa,_ ” she spat out, enunciating the Commander’s name.

 

Nyko visibly stiffened, clearly shocked by the disrespectful tone Clarke was using and her use of the Commander’s given name.  

 

Lexa drew herself up even straighter and lifted her chin before addressing Clarke. “Do not presume to know anything about my people’s customs. You have been here for too short a time to pass judgement, particularly when I still do not know why you were forced to leave your home in the sky. Could that be because of your own people’s barbaric customs?”

 

Clarke bristled at just how right Lexa was. Again she felt a wave of dizziness, but her anger and adrenaline kept her standing, and she fought it off.

 

“Let me take the punishment in his place,” she said, blue eyes boring into Lexa’s. “I volunteer myself. Is that something that your _customs_ allow?”

 

Lexa looked momentarily stricken, and her mouth fell open slightly.

 

Nyko looked between the two women, clearly feeling extremely uncomfortable at being part of the tense exchange.

 

“It is allowed,” Lexa replied, softer this time. “But I will not allow it. You are in no condition to suffer any additional trauma. You could not survive it.”

 

“Don’t tell me what I can survive,” Clarke said, raising her voice. “I survived a crash landing from space. I survived last night. And I’ve survived plenty more before that.”  

 

Lexa clenched her jaw, just a small movement, but Clarke noticed. Before she could respond, the door to the hut opened and Anya stepped inside, flanked by two guards.

 

Lexa did not turn round to the intrusion right away but continued to stare at Clarke, as if willing something to change through her gaze.

 

Once again Clarke’s heart thudded wildly in her chest, her legs feeling unsteady. But she kept her resolve strong in the stare she returned to Lexa.

 

Anya looked between the two, sensing the tension in the room and more than aware that she was interrupting something.

 

She cleared her throat. “Heda, it will soon be time.”

 

Clarke dragged her eyes away from Lexa to address Anya. “I volunteer in place of Lincoln to receive whatever punishment you deem fitting. His crimes are mine and I should be the one to answer for them.”

 

Anya looked to Lexa.

 

“Leave us,” Lexa said, her eyes still trained on Clarke.

 

Anya and the guards turned and left the hut, and Nyko followed quickly after them, looking relieved to be able to remove himself from the situation.

 

Clarke swayed slightly as a wave of pain, dizziness and exhaustion washed over her.

 

Lexa moved quickly to her side, looking like she wanted to reach out for her, but hesitating.

 

“I’m fine,” Clarke said, hating that she was showing weakness.

 

“You look like you’re about to collapse. Please, sit,” Lexa said, speaking firmly but like she was trying for it not to sound like a command.

 

Clarke huffed a little, but sat down on the edge of the bed, wincing at the pain from her ribs. She was surprised when Lexa sat down about a foot away beside her.

 

“Clarke, I know you wish to repay Lincoln for the kindness he showed you, but this is not the way to do it. Not when you are in this condition.”

 

Lexa had turned slightly to look at Clarke, but Clarke kept her eyes trained forward.

 

“I can’t just sit back and allow him to be torn to shreds. I won’t. You said that your customs allow a volunteer. Well I want to be that volunteer.”

 

Lexa sighed quietly. “I am learning quickly that you are stubborn.”

 

Clarke turned to her. “And I am learning you are ruthless.”

 

Lexa looked amused for the briefest of moments, before she pulled her features back into impassivity.  

 

“I do not know how far yet your knowledge of me extends, but I am the Commander and Leader of the Twelve Clans and their Armies, and of all the surrounding land for hundreds of miles and beyond. I have no choice but to be ruthless. But I also try to be fair and to allow justice to prevail. I could overrule Anya’s edict against Lincoln. I could also forbid you to volunteer yourself in his place. As Heda there are many options available to me, but to meddle in Trikru affairs such as this would cause tension not only with Anya, but amongst the entire clan. I do not want her to look weak to her people, and I have a feeling that not many would understand why I intervened on behalf of a stranger who they currently think is their enemy. Do you see the difficulty that this causes?”

 

Lexa was looking at her so earnestly now, yet retaining that regal aura that the speech had momentarily dumbfounded Clarke.

 

She looked between Lexa’s eyes, and then shook her head slightly, trying to shake the mesmerised feeling.   

 

“Why _are_ you intervening then? Why not let me do it? I am just a stranger to you too, am I not?” Clarke asked, her voice softening this time.

 

Lexa hesitated for a moment. “No, you are not a stranger. You are someone that I am meant to protect.”

 

Clarke felt her stomach somersault as she heard Lexa’s words.

 

“And perhaps,” Lexa continued more hesitantly, pressing her lips together, “you are meant to protect me too.”

 

Both girls stared at each other, a myriad of thoughts running through their heads.

 

Clarke looked away first, flicking her eyes downwards as the intensity of what was going unspoken became too much. 

 

Picking at a thread in the rip that ran across the left thigh of her jeans, over where the wound was, she said, “Surely there has to be another way?”

 

She looked back up at Lexa.

 

The other girl knitted her eyebrows together, looking thoughtful.

 

“I just can’t let Lincoln suffer for me, Lex...Commander,” Clarke continued, correcting herself, “where I came from, to get me here….I had people put themselves on the line for me. I don’t even know what’s happened to them. For all I know they’re suffering their own punishments for what they did to save me. I can’t let that happen again. I don’t want to start my time on Earth that way.”

 

Lexa searched Clarke’s face, looking like she desperately wanted to ask more about what had happened.

 

But instead she said, “There is another way. But I still do not like it.”

 

“Please,” Clarke pleaded.

 

“I must speak with Anya,” Lexa said, rising to her feet, “and you must rest, Clarke. I will have food brought to you and you will have whatever else you need.”

 

Clarke nodded and watched her walk to the door.

 

“You say my name a lot."

 

  
The Commander did not turn, but instead said quietly, “I like the way it sounds.”

 

And with that she was gone, leaving Clarke alone with her thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trig translations:
> 
> veida - invader
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading. Please leave feedback if you have a moment or head over to my [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/weasal) where I am weasal and join in with all things Clexa, Lexa and The Hunner.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to one and all for my extreme tardiness on this chapter. I've had a trip to Ibiza and back, and have generally been busy. And possibly also procrastinating.....which is tied as my worst quality alongside chronic lateness. Sigh. I will most definitely be updating again before another month passes though. Pinky promise. Hope you've all enjoyed Comic Con weekend as much as I have. And what I mean by that is yelping every time a new picture or video is posted of Eliza or ADC. I am dedicating this chapter to the Captain of our Hearts and our Ship, Eliza Jane Taylor. Lady, you are just too good. Also, I just found out how to embed links here (go me) so I thought I would link you all to my song of Ibiza and of the summer in general. It is quite beautiful and so therefore perfect for Clexa. Give it a try - [Moments - Kidnap Kid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=60wfyuwb_sk)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others, past and present, and by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future.**

 

 

Clarke was helped by Nyko into the Commander’s tent on the following day.

 

She had slept for the better part of the past twenty four hours, only waking to eat a little food and to allow an older woman with a kind smile but who spoke no English, to help her to bathe. The process, although extremely painful, had also been one of the most incredible feelings Clarke had ever experienced. This was due to the metal container that had been carried into her hut, by order of Lexa, that had then been filled with steaming hot water. As Clarke had carefully lowered herself into the bath, with the help of the woman, she had let out a loud groan as she felt the water envelop her body. The woman had smirked and Clarke had felt a little embarrassed for about half a second. Submerging her body in warm water had rapidly moved itself into the top five things that had ever happened to her.

 

Lexa had not however returned to see her. But after Nyko had inspected and cleaned her wounds that morning, he had told her in broken English that she had been summoned by the Commander. Clarke had raised her eyebrows at this and had internally fought a battle of wills to suppress her initial reaction to the command. A year of being locked up by an authoritarian regime would do that to a girl. 

 

As she limped into the tent leaning heavily on Nyko, she looked up to see Lexa sitting on a grand wooden throne. Anya stood to her left, and a large man who looked startlingly like Nyko stood to her right. 

 

Lincoln was on his knees in front of them, his hands bound behind his back. A collection of imposing men and women stood on the edges of the tent, and all eyes were now trained on the blonde stranger leaning on the healer. 

 

Lincoln turned slightly and locked his gaze with Clarke’s, giving her a small nod and just a hint of a smile. Her heart clenched. This man who she barely knew yet who had already done so much for her was still trying to reassure her and make sure she was alright. She felt the drive to protect him ignite in her chest. 

 

“Clarke,” Lexa said, silencing any murmurs with the authority that only comes with years of experience. 

 

Clarke drew her eyes away from Lincoln and settled them on the Commander.

 

Once again she was struck by the regalness of the other girl. Her skin seemed to glow, free as it was now of the mask of black paint, and intricate braids tamed her long hair. All of this coupled with the morning sunlight illuminating the canvas behind afforded her an air of etherality. Yet Clarke tried not to be phased as the memory of red cheeks, frizzy hair and gentle touches from the morning before stirred fresh in her mind. But the unbidden yet very clear thought that Lexa was quite simply more beautiful than anything she had ever seen in space, on the ground, or anywhere had her feeling momentarily unmoored. 

 

Shaking herself from her stupor, she became keenly aware of all the eyes in the room being on her, and so letting go of Nyko’s arm she drew herself up as much as she could manage with her already aching leg, screaming ribs and throbbing shoulder. She was glad she had wrestled herself into her leather jacket before they had made the slow journey to the tent, as it somehow offered her a small piece of confidence and dignity. She didn’t know why but should she have been standing there in only her light cotton top, she would have felt significantly more vulnerable. And in her current condition, she would take any extra help she could get in regards to feeling strong; faux-battledress included. 

 

Regardless, Anya looked at her scathingly, her sharp eyes hard and unflinching. The giant Nyko-lookalike stood stock still, his face impassive, but his hulking presence infinitely intimidating. It was obvious why Lexa had him as one of her closest guards. 

 

Clarke was now doubly thankful that she had put the jacket on. It wasn’t much, and she was under no illusion that to them she appeared as anything other than a badly injured girl, but it was something.

 

“Bring a chair,” Lexa instructed to someone behind Clarke.

 

“I'd rather stand, Commander,” Clarke said, limping forwards to stand beside where Lincoln kneeled. Futile as it was, she tried not to outwardly wince as she moved. She had shown enough weakness.

 

“Very well,” Lexa responded, albeit not looking particularly happy at the arrangement. She looked around at the various people in the tent as she continued. “We are here to conclude the matter of Lincoln kom Trikru's punishment for his crime of lying to his clan leader in order to harbour a person, who at that time, was thought to be an enemy.” Her eyes flicked back to Clarke.

 

“As you have offered to take Lincoln’s punishment in his stead, Anya and I have come to an agreement about how this will be done.”

 

“I'll do whatever it takes to keep Lincoln from harm, Commander,” Clarke said, focusing on keeping her words clear and steady. “I would like to say again that I take full responsibility for all of this, and that Trikru should know that he was only trying to help me and keep me safe.”

 

A strange look passed over Lexa’s face, accompanied by that jaw clench that Clarke had noticed the day before. It looked something like jealousy, but she didn’t have time to dwell too long on it, as it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

 

“That may well be, however the fact remains that he disobeyed the clan and there are consequences to that.” Lexa's gaze moved coolly between Lincoln and Clarke.

 

Clarke had to suppress the protest that threatened to spill out of her. It felt like she had left one world where minor infractions were met with unjust punishments, only to fall right into another where the same thing happened. 

 

“As I have overruled the standard punishment in this instance, it has been decided that Clarke, you will remain in Tondisi where you will continue to heal. You will be allowed to move freely and be as much a part of the clan as you wish. However, you will be required to work alongside Nyko as a healer, which I have been advised the village is sorely in need of. Nyko is often required in neighbouring villages and even in our capital on occasion, so a more permanent healer is something that would be a very valuable contribution to those living here.”

 

Clarke was quite stunned. This turn of events had been the last thing she had been expecting.

 

She paused for a moment before finally responding, trying to choose her words carefully. “As much as I’m honoured to be asked to carry out such an important job - and I appreciate the commute of the sentence - I’m not exactly a qualified doctor__sorry, _healer_ , Commander. I only have basic skills.”

 

Lexa tilted her chin up at this. “In the short time you have been here you have shown to possess plenty of skill in this area, Clarke. Lincoln and Nyko have told me as much. I have no doubt that what you can offer and  _ learn _ , will be invaluable. However, there is still the matter of your punishment, Lincoln,” she said, looking down to where he still knelt. 

 

Clarke glanced down at Lincoln before looking back to Lexa, panic bubbling in her chest. “Wait a minute. I thought I was volunteering on his behalf. This isn’t part of the deal. I said I would take whatever punishment you wanted to give.”

 

The atmosphere in the room changed instantly, with the other occupants of the tent shuffling uneasily and making disapproving noises.

 

“You are not in a position to make a _deal,_  Skai Girl,” Anya hissed at her, leaning forward, her hand gripping the sword at her side. “You are a stranger on our lands, and you would do well to treat Heda with respect. It is only because of her that you stand before us now.”

 

“Shop of, Anya,” Lexa said, silencing her with a flick of her hand and looking to Clarke. “The punishment is fair with regards to the crime and avoids any physical harm coming to either you or Lincoln." She now addressed the kneeling man. "Lincoln, you will be banished from Tondisi and all its surrounding lands.”

 

Clarke gasped.

 

“You will no longer be allowed access to any Trikru villages or gatherings of any kind. As your current dwelling is many miles from here, you will be allowed to remain there, but let it be known that should you set foot closer to Tondisi, a kill order will be  placed on your head.”

 

“No, that’s....that’s…” Clarke sputtered. “You’re taking everything away from him.”

 

Lincoln turned his head to look up at Clarke, his eyes calm and pleading. “It’s alright, Clarke. I’ll be alright.”

 

He turned back to Lexa and bowed his head slightly before saying, “I understand, Heda. Mochof.”   

 

“Thank you?!” Clarke said incredulously, having learned the meaning of the word the previous night. ““How can you thank her for banishing you?” She turned her attention back to Lexa. “This is crazy. Please don’t do this.  _ I’ll  _ leave. Don’t punish him for helping me.”

 

“It is done,” Lexa responded calmly, “and you cannot leave, Clarke. You are fulfilling your part of volunteering in his place by staying in Tondisi to work as a healer.”

 

“So I’m a prisoner now?” Clarke shot back, anger bubbling up and threatening to take over. 

 

“No, you are not a prisoner,” Lexa responded, sounding a little less patient now. “But you are a member of this community and as such you will have to abide by its rules.”

 

She gestured to the large man beside her. “Gustus, untie Lincoln and take him to the stores to allow him to choose which food and supplies he would like to take with him.”

 

“Mochof once again, Heda for your kindness, but that won’t be necessary,” Lincoln said. 

 

“I insist,” Lexa replied, her eyes flicking over to Clarke, who continued to glare.

 

Gustus walked over to Lincoln and hauled him to his feet before untying him.

 

“I’ll come with you,” Clarke said, turning to him. “To say goodbye.”

 

Lincoln nodded and held his arm out for her to lean on. Clarke didn’t spare Lexa or any of the others another glance before she made her way outside with Lincoln, Gustus leading the way.  

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke leaned against the wall inside the large hut that housed some of Tondisi’s food stores, as Lincoln packed supplies into bags.

 

“I’m so sorry this has happened, Lincoln” she said, her heart feeling heavy at the prospect of his departure. “Maybe I can speak to Lexa. Get her to change her mind.”

 

Lincoln closed the last bag and looked up at Clarke with those same gentle eyes she had now grown accustomed to. “It’s not up to her, Clarke. Ultimately this was Anya’s decision, and as leader of Trikru, I have to respect that. As do you,” he added pointedly.

 

“But it’s not right,” she responded. “It should be me who has to leave, not you. These people are your friends, your family.”

 

“They are,” he replied, “but this is our way and my punishment could have been far worse. I need you to do something for me, once I’m gone.”

 

“Of course. Anything.”

 

“Do not fight a battle with Anya, or with Heda, that is not there. I know you are angry at them both for what you see as an unfair solution, but know that I have come out of this far more unscathed than anyone could have anticpated. They only try to be good leaders. I think you will come to see that once you've lived amongst our people for a while.”

 

Clarke breathed in deeply, considering his words.

 

“And do not allow that guilt I see in your face to rule you. I will be fine out there. And I would do it all again if it meant saving you.”

 

She felt tears spring up in her eyes and she moved forwards to wrap her good arm around him. She felt his arms encircle her.

 

“Thank you,” she said against his chest, as she felt him kiss the top of her head.

 

They both heard the quiet sound of a throat being cleared and broke apart as they turned to see Lexa standing at the door.

 

Clarke thought she wore that same strange look on her face from earlier.

 

“Heda,” Lincoln said, dipping his head forwards.

 

Lexa’s face returned to that neutral expression. A talent that Clarke was beginning to learn was a powerful tool. But she was also quickly learning to read the small changes in the other girl’s expressions; difficult to catch but evident if you looked hard enough.

 

“I have had a horse prepared for you. And Anya waits to say goodbye.”

 

“Sha, Heda,” Lincoln responded, bowing slightly.

 

Lexa’s eyes moved to Clarke quickly before returning to Lincoln. “I wanted to convey my gratitude to you.”

 

Clarke’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

 

“For taking care of Clarke.”

 

Her heartbeat quickened.

 

“I will never forget what you did, and there may be a time in the future where an arrangement could be made for you to come to Polis and serve on my guard.”

 

“You know the capital isn’t the place for me, Little Leksa,” Lincoln responded, a lightness in his voice. “Our mothers always said we belonged in the trees.”

 

Clarke was shocked to hear him using such an affectionate term for Lexa, and to learn that the two had history together. She had only witnessed Lincoln behaving so deferentially and official towards her that Clarke had assumed she was simply Heda to him. To realise that there was much more to their relationship had the cogs furiously turning in her head.

 

A smile tugged at the corner of Lexa’s mouth and her green eyes seemed to twinkle in the low light of the hut. “If only so we could get closer to the stars. And I seem to remember that being ‘Little Leksa’ allowed me to reach a higher branch than you in almost every tree.”

 

“Well I had to let you win at something, Heda,” Lincoln responded, his voice soft and playful.

 

Lexa looked at him for a moment with the same soft expression before saying, “Ste yuj, Lincoln.” 

 

“Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim,” Lincoln replied, once again bowing his head forward.

 

Lexa nodded quickly, before turning and leaving the hut, her long coat swishing behind her.

 

Clarke didn’t know what to make of the conversation, not least of all because she didn’t understand the last part of it.

 

“You grew up together?” she asked, turning to face her friend.

 

“Yes,” Lincoln replied, slinging the bags onto his shoulder. “But only when we were very young. Leksa was taken to the capital to commence her training when she was still a small girl.”  

 

Clarke had so many questions she wanted to ask, but she knew this wasn’t the right time. She had to let Lincoln go before someone came looking for him again. But just as she was about to suggest they walk out together, a thought sprang into her mind.

 

“The radio,” she blurted out.

 

Lincoln frowned.

 

“I need you to contact my people. Please will you do that for me?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Stick to channel 7. Raven should be there. Tell her…..tell her I’m ok. That I’ve had to venture a bit further afield and that’s why I’ve asked you to contact them. Don’t tell her I got shot by an arrow. She’ll probably give you shit, because that’s what Raven does, but just tell her I said ‘May we meet again’. She’ll know then that she can trust you.”

 

A look of surprise briefly passed over Lincoln’s face, but all he said was, “Alright.”

 

“You better get going,” Clarke said, a feeling of such sadness washing over her that she had to work hard not to cry. “I’m going to come see you once all these goddamn injuries have healed though. They might have banished you but I didn’t hear anything about me not being allowed to come to you.”

 

Lincoln smiled, shaking his head slightly.

 

“Besides,” Clarke continued, smiling back, “you have my stuff and I want it back.”

 

“I will keep it safe for you,” he said, looking at her affectionately.

 

“May we meet again.”

 

“Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim,” he replied, repeating the words he had used with Lexa moments ago.

 

“I really need a crash course in Grounder language,” Clarke said, flashing a grin at her friend and bumping her good shoulder against his as they walked out together.  

 

* * *

 

Clarke watched from across the square that was the centre of the village, as Anya spoke at length to Lincoln. She was too far away to hear the words and it was difficult to decide if they were friendly or not, as Anya maintained that hard exterior that Clarke had begun to think was the only setting she had.

 

She squinted in the bright sun as she tried to work out what was going on.

 

“They have a complicated relationship.” It was Lexa’s voice, having seemingly materialised out of nowhere.

 

“Stars!” Clarke yelped, her hand flying to her heart as she turned to look at the other girl. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

 

Lexa glanced away from Anya and Lincoln to Clarke, a puzzled look on her face. “I am not familiar with the expression, but I apologise if I startled you.”

 

Clarke sighed and turned her gaze away again. “It’s fine. You’re just very….stealthy.”

 

They stood side by side in silence for a few moments, watching Anya continue to talk to Lincoln.

 

“What sort of complicated?” Clarke asked, keeping her eyes forward, but shifting her weight slightly to try to ease some of the pressure on her leg.

 

“When they were younger, long before Anya became Leader of Trigedakru, they were inseparable. They grew up side by side, together so much that people said if they were trees, their roots and branches would have tangled so completely in each other that you would not have been able to split them apart with an axe. But there was an….incident that changed that bond.”

 

Clarke was looking at Lexa now, already completely rapt by her story, while Lexa’s eyes remained forward.

 

“What happened?” she asked softly.

 

“A man fell to earth, much like you.” Lexa turned slightly to face her. “Lincoln and Anya found him and tried to help him. They brought him food and water for three days, but his injuries were so great that Anya could see that he would not survive. Being young and scared, she told Lincoln’s father about the man. To teach Lincoln a lesson about the warrior life that he wanted his son to grow up to live, he made Lincoln kill the man.”

 

Clarke’s mouth fell open slightly in shock.

 

“Their relationship never really recovered after that and I don’t think Lincoln ever forgave Anya for what he saw as a betrayal. Around the same time as Anya became Leader of the Clan, Lincoln left Tondisi and made his home in the place where he resides to this day.”

 

Lexa glanced briefly again at the two. “I believe this may be the most words they have exchanged in a long time.”

 

“Wow,” Clarke breathed out, glancing between them and Lexa.

 

Lexa just raised her chin slightly in a way that said she agreed with Clarke’s response.

 

“Who was the man?” Clarke asked, her mind again reeling with a hundred questions, but not knowing where to start and also knowing that now was not the time. “I mean, I can only assume he came from the Ark. I heard stories of a few here and there who left on suicide missions.”

 

Lexa turned her gaze back fully to Clarke now. Her eyes had turned a light shimmering green in the sun, and it struck Clarke how different they could look from moment to moment.

 

“They never knew who he was. They did not yet speak your language. But yes, he was from your Ark.”

 

Clarke bristled at this. “It’s not my Ark anymore,” she responded bitterly, casting her eyes to the ground.

 

“That may well be, but I am sure you can now see why this situation has been particularly complicated for Anya to navigate. Once again she has had to make a choice with regards to a Sky Person, and with regards to Lincoln. But ultimately the wellbeing of her people had to come first, and so she has done what she believes is best. I know you don't approve yet of our ways, Clarke, but our people live by certain laws and Anya had to find a way to set an example, whilst also pleasing me.”

 

Clarke’s eyes darted between Lexa’s. “Don’t you think it’s strange?”

 

Lexa simply quirked her eyebrow in a question.

 

“That Lincoln was the one to find that man. And then he was the one to find me?”

 

“Do you believe in fate, Clarke?” Lexa said in reply, with such an intense expression that Clarke momentarily forgot what the question had been.

 

But before she could answer she heard someone approaching, and looked over to see it was Anya. She couldn’t be sure but she thought she saw dampness in her eyes, but her gaze was then pulled away to Lincoln.

 

He smiled over at her and she returned it, with a small wave. He turned and swung himself up onto the grey horse that had been standing patiently beside him. Clarke’s stomach clenched as he made a clicking sound and the horse began walking away.

 

She stood and watched them leave until they moved under the trees and were gone from sight.  

 

* * *

 

Later that night Lexa finally fell asleep in her tent. She had tossed and turned for what felt like hours as her mind refused to be stilled.

 

She had hoped that Clarke would join her, Anya and some other senior figures from the village in their evening meal, but after Lincoln had left, Clarke retreated to her hut and did not appear again. Nyko had reported that she had eaten a little of the meal that had been brought to her, but that she had said she wished to sleep. He had reassured Lexa that this was the best thing for her to allow her body to heal as quickly as possible.

 

Lexa could not deny to herself the disappointment she felt in not being able to see Clarke again that day. She knew there was much to say, but she was also aware of the importance of giving the other girl space. She had seen the look of sadness on Clarke’s face as she watched Lincoln leave. She could imagine that she was feeling quite alone now in this new world, and as much as she wanted to go to her and tell her that no, she wasn’t alone, she also didn’t want to overwhelm her.

 

So she stayed away and retreated for her own bed not long after she had finished her food. Anya was sullen at dinner anyway, and this combined with Lexa’s pensive mood did not make for the best atmosphere.

 

Now she lay under the furs, her mind finally quiet enough for sleep. But peace was not something that came. Instead, she was lost to another place. 

 

_She felt herself soaring above a great army. Her army. A vast sea made up of the twelve clans, on the cusp of charging into battle. But she couldn’t see what enemy they faced. The dream shifted then and she was at the front of the battleline. Instead of seeing herself there, heading up the thousands of warriors, she saw Clarke. Sat astride Lexa’s huge white war horse, her piercing blue eyes scanned the horizon. She looked older by some years and across her shoulder was Lexa’s pauldron and red sash, the familiar cog firmly in between her eyebrows._

 

_She was Heda._

 

_The dream shifted once more, and Clarke now lay on the muddy ground, covered in blood which spilled from a grave injury to her side. She gasped for breath and fumbled inside her coat for something. With a shaky hand she withdrew a small tin box, battered and rusty with age. She slid the box open and picked up the Flame that lay inside. Lexa saw but did not hear as she mumbled some words, reaching behind her neck._

 

_ The last thing Lexa heard as she watched Clarke stare up to the sky - as if seeing her hovering above - is her breathe out “Lexa” as a peaceful smile graced her lips.  _

 

Lexa jolted upright in her bed, gasping for air.

 

 _What in the jok was that_?

 

Her mind reeled. She felt panicked and unsteady, her heart beating wildly against her chest. Her hands shook as she pushed her hair back out of her face. She took in five deep breaths, slow and deliberate.

 

She still did not know what had just happened, but there was one thing she was certain of. Clarke had been in the dream too. The Clarke of the here and now.

 

Lexa could _feel her._

 

She had to speak to her, and she had to do it right now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trig translations:
> 
> Shop of - Be quiet  
> Mochof - Thank you  
> Sha - Yes  
> Ste yuj - Stay strong  
> Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim - May we meet again  
> Jok - Fuck
> 
> As always, any comments are AWESOME. Feed me. Also come say hi over on Tumblr - [weasal](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/weasal)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello fellow lovers of the Post-Apocalyptic Lesbian Warrior Queen and the Bisexual Space Princess. Although I never thought that really did Clarke justice. Ass-Kicking Space Goddess Wanheda might be a fairer deal for our fearless protagonist. Aaaanyway.....as per, sorry for the wait on the update. If only I didn't have to go to work and go workout and cook dinner and see people, I'd be pumping out the chapters like there was no tomorrow. Hopefully I'll speed up at some point but I'd better not make any promises then let someone down! Just know the story will keep on coming until it reaches the end. Like what a proper story should do. 
> 
> Every time I hear this song I think of our gals. It's tres Clexa I think. Give it a listen - [Tina Dico - Count to Ten](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPQZl1oIOM8)
> 
> Come say hey to me over on Tumblr - [weasal](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/weasal)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **All five horizons revolved around her soul as the earth to the sun**
> 
>  
> 
>   

Lexa walked quickly to Clarke’s hut, making her way there mostly by instinct as the lack of moonlight created an almost complete blanket of darkness. It was quiet all around her as all of Tondisi slept.

 

Goosebumps broke out on her arms as the cool night air moved over her. In her haste to see Clarke she had left her own sleeping quarters in just the clothes that she slept in; light pants and a sleeveless top. She had stopped only to quickly shove her feet into a pair of leather boots.

 

As she moved silently in between the stone buildings and wooden huts, she willed her pulse to resume its normal rhythm. The dream had affected her in a way that she was not used to, and her efforts to center herself were only half-working at best.

 

As she approached the hut she saw a faint orange glow coming from inside. She didn’t need to see inside to know that Clarke was awake. Somehow Lexa just _knew_ that she was. Even so, as etiquette and manners remained at the forefront of the majority of her actions, she paused at the door and raised her hand to knock.

 

Before she could make contact with the door, it was pulled open and Clarke stood before her, wide-eyed and beautiful.

 

Lexa stared at her, mouth slightly parted, before she slowly lowered her arm to her side.

 

Clarke wore loose pants and a long-sleeve fitted top, and her feet were bare. Her blonde hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders and the candlelight behind cast her in a golden glow that made Lexa’s breath catch.

 

“Lexa,” Clarke breathed out, and Lexa’s heart thudded in her chest at the sound, the ghost of the dream flitting across her consciousness as she heard her name fall from Clarke’s lips again.  

 

“Clarke," she responded. It came out softer than usual, her throat feeling dry.

 

Lexa couldn’t help but drink Clarke in, eyes raking over her face; her slightly startled expression, her eyes which were now a deep concentrated blue, the myriad of cuts on her otherwise perfect complexion, her soft pink mouth.  

 

The air between them crackled with a charged energy.

 

Lexa realised she was staring.

 

She attempted to compose herself. “I came here to speak with you.”

 

““The dream___”

 

Lexa nodded, feeling the tug of it still lingering in her mind, even more so now that she was face to face with Clarke.  

 

“You’d better come in.” Clarke stepped back from the door.

 

Moving inside she stood in the small space of the hut. She clasped her hands behind her back, then moved them to her sides. She shifted her stance. Second guessing what to do with her limbs was not something that she had ever struggled with, but right now nothing felt quite right. She settled for the familiar position that she usually assumed when fulfilling her duties, and clasped her hands once more behind her, trying to soften her shoulders.

 

Clarke shut the door and moved around lighting some additional candles.

 

Turning to Lexa she said nothing for a long moment, instead studying her face.

 

Just as Lexa was about to break the silence, Clarke spoke.

 

“Has this happened to you before?”

 

Lexa felt the weight of something bigger than both of them settle in the space between them. She breathed in deeply before responding.

 

“If you mean have I shared a dream with someone before, then no, not quite like this.”

 

She considered how to tell Clarke all that she would need to tell her, and wondered how much she should share with her now.

 

“What do you mean ‘not quite like this’? So you _have_ had something similar happen?”

 

“My dreams are not the same as other people’s. They work….differently. It is part of being the Commander. Did you dream of me before you fell to Earth, Clarke?”

 

“Yes,” Clarke replied seriously, swallowing. “Many times.”

 

That electric energy had returned again, if it had ever gone away, and both girls fought to keep their composure. It felt as though they were being drawn together by a force that was outwith their control, and Lexa struggled to stop herself from reaching out to touch the other girl.

 

Clarke continued again. “I knew your eyes before I ever saw them in reality. I’ve seen you as a child. I’ve….been dreaming about you for months now.”  She shook her head slightly and ran a hand through her hair, a look of confusion crossing her features. “But now that I’m here, _with_ you, I feel like I might have been dreaming of you for a lot longer. It’s as if seeing you has unlocked hidden memories that are now trying to fight for space in my head. My already very mixed-up head.”

 

“You’ve been through a lot these past few days. It’s understandable that you might be feeling confused.”

 

Clarke smiled slightly. “Any chance this is all a product of hitting my head really hard and adapting to breathing fresh air?”

 

The corner of Lexa’s mouth tugged up. “I don’t think so I’m afraid. Not unless I’ve also been suffering from the same concussion.”

 

Clarke sighed and moved to sit on the bed. Lexa could see how weary she was.

 

“Perhaps we could continue this conversation tomorrow,” she said, her stoic demeanour returning. “It's late and you are tired.”

 

Clarke looked up quickly, shaking her head. “Oh no, Commander. You’re not getting away that easily. I have way too many questions to be able to go back to sleep.”

 

She patted the bed next to her and looked expectantly at Lexa.  

 

Lexa pressed her lips together and stood where she was for a moment, considering her options. And then she was sitting, but far enough away from Clarke that she could breathe a little easier.

 

“Did you dream about me too?” Clarke asked, turning her body to look at Lexa with those same intense blue eyes. “Before tonight I mean.”

 

Lexa held her gaze, tried to keep her eyes on Clarke’s even though the urge to flick them down to her lips was almost unbearable. If there was one thing Lexa was good at though, it was restraint. At least usually.

 

‘I did,” she responded simply, sensing that Clarke needed to say more.

 

Clarke seemed to be thinking, and so Lexa stayed quiet and waited for her to continue.

 

“But tonight was different. I haven’t ever felt your presence like that in a dream before. The other times have felt like I’ve just been spectating, but it’s never felt like you were really _there._ Not like this.” Clarke paused. “But you also weren’t really there, were you? You were dead in that reality….or future, or whatever it was.” She put her head in her hands, and sounding increasingly agitated, said, “I just don’t know how to take all of this.”

 

Lexa’s brow furrowed slightly at the sight of Clarke’s distress before her.

 

“Do you remember what was in your hand at the end of the dream?”

 

Clarke raised her head up again. “From the box?”

 

Lexa nodded. “It is called the Flame, and I believe it is part of the reason why we are connected. I don't have all the answers for you right now, as I’m still trying to understand things myself. But the Flame is important and what I am about to tell you is not known by anyone other than me and my most trusted spiritual advisers. And some of it only by me.”

 

Clarke stared at her, her face still but a look of slight trepidation flitting across her eyes.

 

“The Flame connects me with past Commanders. All of them. Their spirits provide guidance, and through this united lineage, the sacred role of Heda is protected. And therefore my people too.”

 

Clarke kept staring, her eyes flitting between Lexa’s, and Lexa could see the cogs in her head turning, trying to make sense of the information.

 

“How?” Clarke asked.

 

“How what?”

 

“How does it do all that? How does it work?”

 

“Because it is in me,” Lexa replied evenly, “and because of my blood.” She stood and walked to the small table where some implements had been left for dining. She picked up a small knife and turned back to Clarke, before quickly slicing across her palm.

 

Clarke winced and drew back slightly.

 

Lexa walked back over to the bed, clenching her hand into a fist before opening her palm in front of her.

 

“What…..how is that…..” Clarke stammered, her eyes wide and her hand reaching out as if to check if the strange coloured blood was real.

 

“I am what we call a Natblida. In your language, a Nightblood. Only those with the black blood can take the Flame, and so only those with the black blood can ascend to become Heda.”

 

Lexa closed her palm, the blood flow already slowing as she had only made a shallow cut.

 

“If I hadn’t already seen your blood run red from your wounds, I might have thought this connection we shared was because you were somehow also a Natblida. But I don’t think that is possible of someone who wasn’t born on the ground.”

 

Clarke frowned and pressed her lips together, the mental gymnastics she was doing on the inside perfectly etched across her face.

 

Again Lexa waited, allowing the other girl to have a moment to process all the new information.

 

“So if I’m not a…..Nightblood, then why the dreams? And why in this dream, tonight, did it seem like I was in charge?” She paused, looking intently at Lexa. “If only people with the black blood can become the Commander, why did it seem like _I_ was, Lexa?”

 

Lexa hesitated, a rare occurence. “I…..don’t know. If that dream was a premonition then for all intents and purposes it was trying to show us that you were the new Heda. However…..” she paused again, thinking, “you hadn’t taken the Flame into you. It was in your hand. But it looked as if you were about to.”

 

Clarke shifted where she sat, rearranging her sore leg and then looking up at Lexa again.

 

“What happens to someone who tries to take the Flame if they’re not a Nightblood?”

 

Lexa’s jaw clenched of its own volition. “It kills them,” she responded flatly.

 

Clarke let out a long breath. “Ok. Well that’s pretty final then.”

 

Lexa could see her continue to mull things over as she looked down at her lap for a moment, her eyebrows knitted together.

 

“Something about this doesn’t make sense though,” she continued, her eyes narrowing and looking to the side.

 

“Go on,” Lexa said.

 

Clarke locked her gaze on her again.

 

“I was already as good as dead on that battlefield. I would have bled out in minutes from that wound. Why would I try to take the Flame if I knew it would kill me? There would be no point to that.”

 

Lexa thought about this for a moment. “Perhaps you weren’t aware of this particular aspect of it?” she ventured.

 

Clarke shook her head. “No. I must have known. As hard as all of this is to believe for someone who was raised in a world where science is god, it _is_ happening. To me. And I have no choice but to believe it. And there is no way  _that_ Clarke - that version of me - didn’t know all there was to know about what she….about what _I_ was doing. If I was trying to take the Flame it’s because I knew it would work. And I think it’s because I knew it would take me back to you.”

 

Lexa felt something stir deep inside of her on hearing this last part. She had been nothing short of astounded so far with everything to do with Clarke. Her tenacity and strength and her seemingly unerring ability to survive in any situation was already proving to be quite extraordinary. But more than that, Lexa felt a warmth in the place inside of her that she had thought would never feel warm again. Somehow she felt tethered to this other soul that sat beside her now encased in the battered body of a girl probably younger than even she was.

 

She pushed herself on, needing Clarke to know what she knew. “There is another part to the Commander legacy. This is the part that is only known by me, and even then I have only been gifted with some of this knowledge quite recently. It is this piece of the puzzle that I now believe could be what connects us. What connects you to the blood.”

 

Clarke looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue.

 

“It has only ever been those with the black blood who can take the Spirits of the past Commanders into them through the Flame, but for every rule there is an exception. And I believe that you are that exception, Clarke.”

 

“But why me?” Clarke asked, looking utterly confused. “What could be so different about my blood?”

 

Lexa took in a deep breath.

 

“Because I think your blood is the same as the _First_ Commander’s.”

 

Clarke gawped, opening and closing her mouth a few times.

 

“I can only assume that there is some familial connection, although she hasn’t revealed that much to me yet.”

 

“Wait. So you’re saying that the very first Heda, after the bombs, was somehow _related_ to me? And you know because she’s in your head and she told you?”

 

“Yes,” Lexa responded softly.

 

There was silence for long moments as Lexa watched Clarke again try to absorb the monumental pieces of information being thrown at her, her eyes roaming the room before coming to rest again on Lexa.

 

“How is it that I came to be here though, Lexa?.” Her voice sounded incredulous. “How is it possible that we’ve been having these dreams and that my friends got me out of prison and managed to launch me out of space and practically onto your doorstep? It all just seems so…..crazy.”

 

“Remember when I asked if you believe in fate? I know that you grew up in a world of science and you must think our ways and beliefs to be backwards and implausible. But there are bigger things in this universe than you or I, and sometimes science alone cannot provide all of the answers. Sometimes we must look beyond, and listen to the path that is being drawn out for us. We must trust that it will lead us to the right place.” A smile pulled at the corners of Lexa’s mouth.  “And sometimes gravitational forces are so strong that a star has no other option but to fall out of the sky.”

 

“That sounds suspiciously like science,” Clarke said, smiling slightly herself.

 

The Commander knelt slowly in front of the other girl, until they were at eye level with one another.

 

“In any case it is clear to me that you are important, Klark kom Skaikru, and I need you to know that I, Leksa kom Trikru, Commander of the Blood, swear fealty to you. I believe you were brought to me for a reason, and until we find out what that reason is, I vow to protect you and treat your needs as my own.”

 

Clarke looked back at her, eyes shining. She reached out and placed a hand on Lexa’s cheek, her palm gently cupping around her jawline.

 

Lexa felt her heartbeat quicken.

 

She looked deep into the darkening pools of Clarke’s eyes, and that warm place inside her ignited.

 

Clarke pulled her forward and kissed her. Kissed her so passionately yet tenderly that if Lexa hadn’t already been kneeling, she imagined her legs might have buckled. She moved a hand to Clarke’s neck, stroking up through her hair. Clarke grabbed at the front of Lexa’s top with her other hand, and Lexa slipped an arm round Clarke’s back, pulling her close against her. She felt Clarke’s tongue slide across her lower lip until it met her own; hot and wet and needing.

 

A sound that was somewhere between a growl and a whimper escaped from Lexa’s throat. She felt the kind of desire she had believed she could not possess again. It coiled in her stomach and started to rise through her body, urging her onwards.

 

The kiss deepened and Clarke was letting out the most incredible sighs, or moans - Lexa didn’t know what they were but she thought that they sounded like whole galaxies forming and behind her eyelids she saw the warm light of a summer’s day and a future painted out in vivid colour.

 

Lexa kissed Clarke like it was it was the last thing she would ever do, and she felt that fervour and desperation returned with every lick and sigh and push and pull.  

 

She felt herself being gently tugged upwards, Clarke encouraging her to move up onto the bed.

 

Lexa pulled away just a fraction, gulping in air. In some ways it felt like the first proper breath she had taken in years, inflating her lungs and making her feel as light as a feather.

 

She rose to her feet and looked down at Clarke, her hand still caught up in the soft blonde curls, fingers lightly stroking the side of her head. Clarke looked up at her with eyes so dark that it was taking all of Lexa’s resolve not to just push her back onto the bed.

 

But Clarke had other ideas and didn’t hesitate as she reached for Lexa’s hand and pulled her down on top of her as she lay back.

 

Lexa knew they were probably moving too fast but she couldn't seem to bring herself to care. She couldn’t have stopped if she had tried.

 

She hovered over Clarke, revelling in the way that she felt under her but also acutely aware of all the injuries the other girl was suffering from. Clarke must have sensed her hesitation.

 

“It’s ok,” she whispered, her voice sounding huskier than before. “I won’t break. I just want to feel you.”

 

Those words and the way Clarke was looking at her left Lexa completely breathless. Clarke’s pupils were big and black and the remaining blue of her irises twinkled like the midnight sky. Just as Clarke had mused earlier that day on the Commander’s ever shifting eye colour, so now did Lexa marvel at just how many shades of blue she had already seen in the eyes of this girl who had fallen from space.

 

Then Clarke was kissing her again. Surging forward to capture her lips and pulling her down more firmly on top of her. Waves of ecstasy washed over her each time she pushed into her mouth, and the feel of Clarke’s hands on her lower back and neck, and the feeling of her beneath caused tiny shock waves throughout her body.

 

Lexa’s thigh slipped between Clarke’s legs and the blonde let out the kind of moan that made the tips of Lexa’s ears turn pink and a flood of wetness pool from her. She shuddered as she felt Clarke’s thumb slip just beneath the waistband of her pants at her hip, and she let out a moan of her own as Clarke began to rub teasing circles there. That one touch on her skin felt like she was on fire, and she would quite happily have let it consume her then and there. Lexa could have drowned in the feeling of Clarke’s tongue running over her own, her teeth grazing and sucking at her own swollen bottom lip.  

 

Just as she was about to move her hand to Clarke’s waist she stopped dead. Moving back from Clarke’s mouth just slightly she stilled her body completely and cocked her head to the side.

 

She had heard something.

 

“What?” Clarke asked, a confused look on her face.  

 

And that was when all hell broke loose.

 

* * *

 

Clarke watched as Lexa’s head snapped round to the direction of where the commotion was coming from, her eyes wide and a look of bewilderment on her face.

 

Muffled shouting and the sounds of dull impact could be heard nearby. Clarke could also hear what she could only describe as a ‘whooshing’ sound, and she heard it several times in short succession. It was this that put fear into her heart as she realised that the sound could be nothing natural but had to be from something man-made.

 

It sounded like some sort of _gas cannister_ being deployed, she thought. 

 

Lexa made the connection at exactly the same time and jumped up quickly from the bed.

 

“Maunon,” she spat out harshly, but Clarke could also hear a tinge of fear there, which only served to make her own heart jump to her throat.

 

Lexa moved so fast she was almost a blur, speedily extinguishing the few candles that had been burning with her bare fingertips, before moving to the small window and carefully peering out past the curtain.

 

Clarke jumped to her feet and moved to stand behind Lexa.

 

“What are they doing here?” she whispered, trying to see over Lexa’s shoulder out into the darkness. It was difficult to make anything out on such a moonless night, but what looked like pink-tinged smoke was drifting like fog across the village. The effect was eerie and a shiver went down her spine.

 

“Gassing us,” Lexa replied, her voice low and dangerous, eyes darting back and forth across the scene in front of them, “and breaking a hundred year treaty to never set foot in one of our villages.”

 

“Then why now? What do they want?”

 

Lexa turned briefly to look at Clarke. “There is only one thing that has changed in recent days.” Her eyes shone bright even as they looked almost grey in the darkness.

 

Clarke sucked in a breath, the realisation hitting her.

 

“Me.”

 

Lexa nodded quickly before turning her attention back outside.

 

“I must get to my weapons. I can’t protect you like this. The guards must have either been killed or incapacitated.”

 

“No, Lexa,” Clarke said, shaking her head and grabbing the other girl’s arm. “You can’t go out there. Either the gas will get to you or something worse.”

 

“I am the Commander, Clarke, and those are my people out there. I can’t just hide in here when those _nomonjokas_ could be _killing them.”_ She hissed out those last few words.

 

Clarke felt like she had been punched in the gut, like all the air had left her body. She could not believe this was happening. Yet more suffering being wrought upon innocent people because of her. And the change of pace to what had just been happening moments ago was giving her whiplash.

 

Just as she was about to speak again, they both jumped as a gunshot was fired.

 

Snapping her eyes back to the window Clarke now saw multiple figures appear in what looked to be some sort of hazmat suits with glass-fronted full face and head coverings, and carrying laser-sighted rifles. Red flares had been lit and were held aloft by some of the figures, casting a sinister glow in the open area around them.

 

With horror Clarke then saw a groggy looking Anya, Gustus and three more of the warriors from the tent earlier, being dragged into the village square and shoved to their knees in a line. She could tell that they were trying to fight the effects of the gas that had been used on them, but it was obviously useless as their heads lolled forwards and then back up again, like they were nodding off to sleep.

 

Gustus managed though to plant a foot on the ground and started to haul himself up with what looked like a Herculean effort. And for that effort he got a violent crack to the back of his head from the butt of a rifle brandished by one of the suited figures. He slumped forward but managed to catch himself and not collapse completely to the ground.

 

Lexa growled and Clarke could see her entire body clenched tightly, seconds away from springing to some sort of action.

 

“Commander!” a voice bellowed from outside. “We suggest you come outside now before anyone else gets hurt. Come unarmed and with your new guest and we’ll get on our way.”

 

Lexa stepped towards the door but Clarke grabbed her arm again. “Lexa, no! Let me go. It’s me they want. Please don’t go out there.” She looked at the other girl pleadingly.

 

“It is my duty, Clarke,” Lexa replied steadily, but her wild eyes belied the strength in her voice. “I have to at least try to talk with them. Stay here and do _not_ come out, no matter what.” It was said as a command and not a request. Lexa grabbed the small dagger from the table again, tucked it into her boot and strode out the door.

 

Clarke watched with dread as Lexa silently made her way through the shadows before appearing on the edge of the clearing, her hands at her sides with her palms facing outwards.

 

Clarke’s blood pounded in her ears and she almost felt like pinching herself to check that this wasn’t one of the dreams she had on the Ark. The surreal quality to the scene before her didn’t help with the feeling.

 

Lexa’s voice then rang out, powerful and formidable even though she stood with no armour, no weapons, no backup.  

 

“I am the Commander of the Twelve Clans and I demand to know why your President has broken the treaty that now has you standing on our lands, threatening my people.”

 

Clarke watched as some of the figures turned and trained their guns on Lexa, their green beams lighting up the front of her shirt.

 

“There’s been a change in our leadership,” Clarke heard someone reply. She thought she could tell which one it was now and could only assume he was the one in charge. “And our new President Cage wants you to know that the old treaty is just that. Old. But we’re still reasonable people, _Commander_ ____” He sneered out the title, deliberately showing his lack of respect for the woman that stood before him now. “We just came here for one thing. If you give us that then we’ll be gone and you won’t be hearing from us again.”

 

“And what would that _thing_ be?” Lexa spat back.

 

“Let’s not play games Commander. The girl who came from the space station. We know she’s here.”

 

Clarke could see the tension held in Lexa’s body, but she marvelled at the poise and power that radiated from her. _If those cowards didn’t have guns they’d see just what she was capable of._

 

“You know nothing of the sort and you have no authority to come here and make demands of me. There will be repercussions for this. It is no less than a declaration of war on our soil.”

 

Clarke could see Lexa’s hands flexing at her sides, and she could see the other suited figures looking between the owner of the voice and Lexa. The atmosphere was thick with tension and fear and Clarke felt it suffocating her even from her relative safe haven of inside the hut.

 

“If that’s the way you want to play it,” she heard the one in charge say.

 

He then turned to where the Trikru warriors knelt and fired a shot into the back of Gustus’ head. A red mist of blood exploded into the air, and the huge warrior crumpled to the ground.

 

Clarke felt more than heard Lexa’s reaction. She saw that she only just managed to hold herself back from lunging at the man who had just murdered one of her closest friends and advisers. Clarke saw that the only thing stopping her from doing this was that the Mountain Man had then walked to stand behind Anya, grabbing her hair and yanking her head back violently.

 

“If you want to test me on just how many of you savages I’ll kill, then go ahead. We have plenty of bullets.”

 

Clarke didn’t hear what was said next as she was already out the door and moving as quickly as she could, bare feet squishing in the mud.

 

She appeared on the edge of the clearing about twenty feet to Lexa’s right, having taken the direct route to get there, not needing to conceal where she had come from.

 

“Stop!” she shouted. “I’m here. Let them go.”

 

“Clarke, no!” Lexa shouted, sounding nothing short of terrified.

 

“Get her,” the one in charge said to another suited figure, gesturing at Clarke.

 

As he began to make his way over to where she stood, Clarke saw something flash across her peripheral vision and the next moment his face-plate was shattering, The knife that Lexa had drawn from her boot and sent flying over with deadly accuracy had hit its mark.

 

The man screamed and clawed at his face, before dropping to the ground and grabbing at his throat. A horrible guttural sound of agony came from him before he fell backwards and convulsed a few times before going still.

 

The other suited figures took some steps back as if being anywhere near the sight of one of them dying like that was too much for them to bear.

 

Clarke remained where she was, breathing heavily and looking between the now melted face of the man in front of her, and over to where Lexa stood, resembling more of a wild animal now than the poised Commander Clarke was used to seeing.

 

“I’ll allow that on the basis of an eye for an eye,” said the man in charge, training his gun back on Lexa, “but take one more step and everyone here dies before you even know what’s happened.”

 

“That won’t be necessary,” Clarke said, swallowing thickly and looking at Lexa. “I’ll come with you.”

 

The look that Lexa gave her could have broken Clarke’s heart in two there and then. She could see that it was hopeless and that there was nothing she could do, and the defeat and panic was written all across her face. Clarke tried to look brave and she tried to let Lexa know with her eyes that it was ok. But in reality all that was happening was that tears were streaming down her face and her lip was trembling.

 

“Release the gas!” the man in charge shouted, firing three shots into the air.

 

Clarke heard that whooshing noise again as multiple gas canisters were deployed all around Tondisi. She vaguely thought about how there must have been a lot of the Mountain Men in the village right now, as the pink fog drifted in from all corners, obscuring her vision.

 

She kept her eyes on Lexa, even as they both dropped to their knees, and then crumpled to the ground. As they lay in the mud they both fought to keep consciousness, if only to look at each other for a moment longer, not knowing if it would be the last.

 

  
Eventually Clarke succumbed to the dark once more.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always it would make my day if you are reading along and you can leave any kind of comment at all to let me know your thoughts. Even if those thoughts are, it's good, it stinks like my gym shoe, whatevs. Comments are just rad to get, big or tiny :) 
> 
> Come say hey to me over on Tumblr - [weasal](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/weasal)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...6 months hey. Oops, my bad. Yet again a very busy real life got in the way. So it feels like a bit of an achievement to have finished this chapter and to be back in the game. If anyone is actually still with me here, I hope you enjoy what comes next...
> 
> The soundtrack to this chapter is [Salt by Ry X](https://open.spotify.com/track/570nabVQOMqAsBhEfLmRWX)

 

 

 

 

 

> **No weapons, no friends, no hope. Take all that away and what's left?**
> 
> **Me.**

 

 

Lincoln returned to his cave by nightfall, having made good time on the horse he was now very grateful Lexa had gifted him.

 

On the long journey back he could think of nothing other than the events of the past few days. He was not one to dwell on the negative and instead chose to focus on the making of a new friend. His situation now was not going to be very different from what it was before. He had chosen the solitary life a long time ago, so Anya’s banishment order wouldn’t affect things too greatly for the imminent future. His only regret was that he would have liked to have spent more time with Clarke. As strange as he found her, he was also fascinated by what little he had got to know of her. Learning about an entirely different society of people, one that came from the stars, was something that intrigued him. And he had few real friends these days, being so isolated.

 

His heart clenched briefly when he thought of his last conversation with Anya.

 

He pushed the feeling away and instead thought of Clarke. He hoped she might visit him once she was able.  

 

With that thought he went to gather up her things and make sure they were stored carefully for her return. As he bent to pick up a book, he noticed it was open to two pages of sketched portraits. One he recognised as himself, and he admired the very accurate likeness. He liked to draw, but he could see that Clarke’s talent far surpassed his own. On the opposite page was a drawing of a girl with long dark hair and intense eyes. He looked at the drawing for a long moment before he noticed the words scribbled underneath.

 

“Little O,” he murmured.

 

* * *

 

The next morning he awoke before dawn and saw to the horse _\- he would have to think of a name for her -_ before eating a quick breakfast of dried meat and fruit. He wanted to get to the Escape Pod as soon as possible to keep his promise to Clarke of contacting her people.

 

As he crested the hill just beyond where the Pod lay, he saw the kicked up mud and hoof prints where Heda and her warriors had ridden in.

 

Approaching the wreckage he lifted the radio receiver, the hard plastic feeling foreign in his hand.

 

“This is a message for Raven. Is Raven there,” he said, his voice sounding gruff.

 

He let go of the button and listened. There was only a strange hissing sound. He waited before trying again.

 

“I have a message for Raven. Respond if you can hear this.”

 

The radio crackled to life.

 

“Who is this?” a female voice demanded, the tone far from friendly. “Where is Clarke?”

 

Lincoln paused before pressing the talk button again. “I’m a friend of Clarke’s. She sent me to pass on a message. Can you confirm you’re Raven?”

 

The response was quick and agitated. “Can you confirm you’re a friend? Why is Clarke not with you? What happened the last time she tried to contact us?”

 

“Clarke is safe. But she’s had to travel some distance to stay in the nearest village. It wasn’t practical for her to travel back to the radio. She needs to heal from her injuries.”

 

“What injuries?” the voice demanded. “I thought you said she was safe.”

 

Lincoln remembered Clarke’s request not to tell her friends of the ambush and the subsequent arrow to her shoulder.

 

“Injuries she sustained from the crash landing of the ship. I found her and helped her as best I could but she’s with a skilled healer now under the protection of our clan leader.”

 

The radio emitted static but there was no response for a long moment and so Lincoln took his chance.

 

“She told me to tell you ‘May we meet again’”. He paused. “She said you would know then to trust me.”

 

More static.

 

“She also said ‘Raven will give you shit because that’s just what she does’. Or at least something to that effect”

 

Something that sounded like a snort came through. “Well if Raven was here then yeah, you’d probably be getting a lot more shit.”

 

Lincoln frowned. “Who are you then?”

 

A different voice spoke. “She’s in big fucking trouble for not getting me as soon as you started talking, is who.”

 

“Raven! You were busy, I was here. Give it back.”

 

“Back off Lil Octopus. Time for the grown ups to talk now.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

Lincoln stood and listened to this, and then to several more minutes of arguing and sharing of information between the girls. He stood, he waited. He may have rolled his eyes at one point. He connected the dots in his mind of Clarke’s sketch of a girl, with this voice on the end of a radio who lived somewhere high above him. He wondered idly if her name really was Octopus and thought it could be entirely possible that these Sky People named their children after creatures from the sky and the sea. Raven, Octopus….

 

He was interrupted from his thoughts as the voice that he now knew to belong to Raven addressed him again.

 

“When can we speak to Clarke?”

 

“It might be some time. Shes does intend on visiting me when she’s fit, so I will bring her to the radio then. But I can’t say when that will be.”

 

“Can you get a message to her then? There’s been some pretty fucked up developments up here since she’s been gone. Some stuff happened with her mom. She should know.”

 

Lincoln cast his eyes to the sky, squinting a little at the bright sun. “That could be a problem.”

 

“Why? Just go to this village and tell her,” said Raven impatiently.

 

“I can’t do that. I’ve been banished. If I go anywhere near there, they’ll kill me.”

 

“WHAT?!” he heard both the girls shout. Then just Raven. “I thought you told Octavia that Clarke was safe? How can she be safe with people who want to kill you? This is NOT making us trust you, dude. Why are you even banished in the first place?”

 

Lincoln sighed before speaking again. “It’s complicated.”

 

* * *

 

Lexa stood in front of Gustus’ funeral pyre, her face a hardened mask. The sun had barely began its ascent into the morning sky and already the huge body of the man that had been at her side for so many years was disappearing into ashes. Her left hand clenched the pommel of her sword where it rested on her hip as her thoughts momentarily drifted to Costia. There had been no pyre for her. With no body to turn to ash, only her head had been returned to her family, in the village far from the capital where Costia had grown up.

 

Lexa had been engulfed in such complete despair and sadness that she did not know if she could come back from it. But in the end she had of course. She had forced her heart to cut off its bleeding and she had painted her face black with tears, placing her people’s needs and her duty first once again. She told herself that love was weakness and she pretended that she believed it. But she knew as she stood here, that she had continued to love, albeit in different ways. Gustus had been like a father to her in many respects. Her most loyal and dependable of warriors and advisers. And he had loved her and she had felt it. And now he was no more. Not killed in a noble battle, defending his people or going down fighting. But taken from her by those _cowards._   

 

She felt Anya’s familiar presence beside her and her jaw’s tireless clenching lessened just a fraction. It could so easily have been her mentor’s body in the pyre too. Lexa was not sure if her heart could have handled that pain.

 

 _There is only so much someone can take all at once_ , she thought, _even the Commander_.  

 

Her eyes drifted to Nyko. The man looked defeated, his grief stricken face wet with tears and a hard line set across his mouth. They had called each other brothers, although Lexa knew that they were in fact cousins. But they had been brothers as much as any two people could have been. Gustus had spoken to Lexa many times of their childhood and the many mischiefs and adventures they had lived through together. In recent years they had not seen each other very often, with Gustus being permanently by Lexa’s side and Nyko mostly living amongst the Trikru villages. Lexa’s breathing stuttered slightly as she remembered back to the day before last when they had come to Tondc. Gustus was not one to outwardly show a great deal of excitement, but she could tell he was pleased they would be staying a while and he would get some time with his brother. Lexa felt his loss deep within her, and it reverberated across the space to where Nyko stood. She felt it radiating from Anya. They had all loved him. And as much as she wanted to stand there until the last ember died out, she could not allow another moment to pass whilst his murderers were free. _And while Clarke_ …..she did not allow herself to finish the thought.  

 

Turning to Anya and speaking in a low voice she said, “Have Nyko meet me in my tent once he has finished paying his respects.”

 

Anya’s eyes slid over to Lexa’s, looking at her blankly for a moment. They then narrowed slightly, before she nodded almost imperceptibly before looking back again at the pyre.  

 

Lexa knew she was taking this particularly badly. Tondisi was her village and six of her other people had been killed in last night's raid, in addition to Gustus. Lexa saw guilt when she looked at her. Guilt that she had been spared while her people had not.

 

As she turned to walk back to her tent she thought to herself how she knew the feeling well.

 

* * *

 

Lexa sat at the table, Anya and Nyko on opposite sides from her. She had deliberately not sat on her throne, feeling it inappropriate to Nyko in light of what had just happened. But she quickly realised that this arrangement felt even more awkward. Anya with her knowing, hard looks, and Nyko with his sadness and possible bewilderment at being called there in the first place.

 

Lexa stood abruptly and walked away a few paces, needing to put some space between her and them. But she turned again before she spoke, looking directly at Nyko.

 

“I’m so sorry for your loss. Gustus’ death will be avenged. I promise you that.” Her voice was unwavering, but softer than usual.

 

Nyko looked at her with those sad eyes. “And I am sorry for yours, Heda. My loss is no greater nor smaller than yours, because grief cannot be measured. It just is. Gustus was many things to many people, and none more than you.”

 

She felt a bubble of sadness force itself up from her chest, but she swallowed it down and set her jaw. She could not allow herself to show any weakness, to _feel_ any weakness right now.

 

“With all due respect Heda,” Anya interjected, “how do you intend on avenging his death? The Maunon crippled us last night with their weaponry. And you know we cannot even get close to the Mountain itself.”

 

“I have sent for reinforcements from Poils. By tomorrow you will have three hundred warriors to protect Tondisi from further attack.”

 

“And if that attack should come from the air and three hundred warriors and all of Tondisi is razed to the ground?” Anya challenged back, her tone angry.

 

“A missile has not been sent in a generation.” As soon as she said it she knew how ridiculous it now sounded.

 

Anya let out a bark of something like laughter. “And a death squad of Maunon had not set foot in one of our villages in a hundred years until last night. You heard what they said. Things have changed.”

 

“So what would you have me do?” Lexa shot back. “Nothing?”

 

“It is more what you would have _us_ do,” Anya responded, banging her fist on the table and standing quickly. “Because you _will_ have us attack, won’t you? And it won’t be to avenge Gustus.”

 

The words hung in the air as Lexa barely contained her rage, her death stare being matched second for second by the other woman. She could feel as much as hear Nyko’s unease at being present for the exchange, as he shifted in his seat.

 

She took a steadying breath and worked to keep her voice from rising.

 

“I would ask you to remember who you are speaking with. And who you are speaking in front of.”

 

Anya closed her eyes, breaking the staring contest, and turned away letting out a loud huff as she did. She walked a few paces away before turning to face Lexa again.

 

“I apologise. I can return when you are finished speaking with Nyko if you wish.”

 

It wasn’t much of an apology but Lexa knew that it was a lot for Anya, and so she let it go for now. It had always been difficult for the older woman to treat her as the Commander. Not because of a lack of respect, but because she had trained her as a Second, had watched her grow up from a small child, and mostly because Anya was a wild-spirited warrior who would have trouble bending the knee to just about anyone, never mind the girl Lexa knew she still thought of as being her little sister. Not that Lexa _wanted_ her to bend the knee. But she did want her to show respect in front of others.

 

Lexa shook her head. “No, I asked you to be here as I wish to discuss certain matters with Nyko. And I want you to be here for that.” Lexa put her arm out and gestured to the table. “Please. Sit”

 

They both took their places again beside Nyko, who Lexa saw was now looking visibly uncomfortable.

 

“Nyko, I need some information.”

 

“Of course Heda. But I do not know what use I could -”

 

“What do you know of shared dreams?” Lexa interrupted.

 

Nyko’s mouth fell open slightly and he frowned in bewilderment. “I….am not sure I know what you mean...”

 

“Yes you are,” Lexa responded. “The other night, when Clarke was fighting the poison...” She felt her chest constrict slightly when she said the name. “There was something you said. You knew about our connection in some way.”

 

Nyko looked back at her, not speaking. She felt Anya’s eyes on her too.

 

She continued. “I know about your uncle. Gustus told me.”

 

Now Anya was looking between Lexa and Nyko, her face a picture of confusion. “Who was your uncle?”

 

Nyko continued to look at Lexa and so she replied instead. “Heda,” she said, her eyes locked on his. “Three before me. Isn’t that right, Nyko?”

 

The man took in a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. “Yes.”

 

Anya let out a small puff of air and sat back in her chair. “You kept that suitably quiet,” she said looking to Nyko. “As did Gustus. Although apparently not with everyone”. Her eyes slid to Lexa, but they had the fondness back in them again, although Lexa could almost see the cogs in her brain turning with the lightening fast propensity she possessed for getting to the core of something.

 

“Wait….”

 

 _There it is_ , thought Lexa.

 

“So if this Heda was your uncle, then….he was Gustus’ **father**?!” Anya’s voice lifted at the end, the realisation hitting her.

 

Lexa continued to look at Nyko who now rubbed his palm along his bearded jaw, finally looking to Anya.

 

“Yes, he was his father. A fact that very few people knew,” he replied.

 

“But it is forbidden for Commanders to have children,” Anya responded, sounding confused.

 

“Come now, Anya,” Lexa said, raising an eyebrow. “It is hardly surprising that in the long lineage of Commanders there has been some offspring. As far as I understand it Gustus’ father had seen eighteen summers when he became Heda, with Gustus being born only a year after that.”

 

“And his mother?” Anya asked, seeming to direct her question to both of them, her eyes darting back and forth across the table. “She could not have lived in Polis as his lover.  Everyone would have known about the child then.”

 

“She died in childbirth,” said Nyko. “Arryn...that was his name, was heartbroken and wanted to renounce his title and escape with Gustus but….my father, his brother, convinced him that he must fulfil his duty and so he took Gustus in and he was raised as if he were my parent’s own child. We grew up as brothers. But we always knew the truth.”

 

Lexa watched Anya absorb the information and stayed quiet to allow the story to unfold further.

 

“And did…. _Arryn_?” Anya questioned and continued at Nyko’s nod. “Did Arryn return as you were growing up?”

 

“Many times. His and Gustus’ relationship could be uneasy, but there was a deep _niron_ and respect between them.”

 

Anya sat back in her chair. “That was why Gustus went to Polis when he came of age instead of staying in Trikru territory.” It was said as more statement than question.

 

Nyko nodded. “When Gustus had seen sixteen summers his father invited him to join his guard. By that point there would be no suspicion as to his origins and he was already proving himself to be a capable warrior, so the new position would have made sense to watchful eyes. Even at that age Gustus was almost as large as he grew to eventually be. He had half a head on his father!” he finished with a laugh, surprising Lexa.

 

Lexa paused for a moment to allow herself to smile at the memory of her towering friend. He had been a behemoth in every way to her and none more so than when she first met him when she was a scrawny child, newly identified as a Nightblood, and he twenty years her senior and seeming like a giant from the folklore tales.

 

“Forgive me as I cannot recall how long Arryn was Heda for. How long did he and Gustus have together in the capital?” Anya asked, looking between both Nyko and Lexa.

 

“Only a year,” Nyko replied sadly. “Arryn was killed in a battle with Azgeda. It was said that Gustus went mad on the battlefield once his father fell, and slaughtered dozens of Azgeda warriors.”

 

“And that’s why he swore to protect whoever came as Heda after that,” Lexa said, swallowing another lump that had formed in her throat.

 

Nyko nodded. “He felt it was his duty. He wanted to make up for what he saw as his failing with his father.”

 

Lexa shook her head. “He served four Heda’s and never once did he fail. He gave his life for his people.”

 

Nyko smiled a small smile, looking so much like Gustus that Lexa had to look away. “He started by serving his father, and in the eighteen years in between you taking the title, he would serve two more Commanders and be just as loyal. But it was with you that he finally forgave himself for what he saw as his failings, because it was with you that he got to be the father he otherwise would not have been. I think that allowed him to feel closer to his own father too, and to understand what it must have been like for him.”

 

Lexa stood and moved away, needing a moment away from the sad looks being directed at her from Nyko and Anya. She went to the water jug in the corner and poured herself a cup, drinking it down in three long gulps. She closed her eyes for a moment, before opening them and turning back around, her composure returned.

 

“Let us discuss what you know of the dreams,” she said to the healer before casting her eyes to Anya. To anyone else she would have seemed her usual indifferent self, but Lexa could tell they had piqued her old Mentor’s interest.

 

She spoke directly to her, wanting to impress the importance of what was coming. “I want you to be here for this. There are things you now must know. Something larger is coming and I need to know how to fight it. Getting Clarke back is integral to that. Will you listen?”

 

Anya surveyed her, those shrewd eyes calculating all that had gone before and trying to work out all that would come next.

 

She nodded. “Yes.”

 

* * *

 

Clarke had been awake for a few minutes now, but had not opened her eyes or moved a muscle. This was because there were two people in the room, and she was listening to what they were saying. She was guessing it wasn’t a bed she was lying on, because she could feel cold hard metal beneath her. Pain thrummed outwards from her thigh and shoulder injuries, pulsing and gnawing at the limbs. On top of this she felt groggy and like there was a tiny person at the side of her head, steadily hitting her temple with a not so tiny hammer. For the second time in as many days she wondered about any lasting damage as a result of being unconscious so many times in a row. There was no point in worrying about that right now though so instead she focused on keeping her breathing as steady as possible. She needed to work out what was going on.

 

“If we don’t have something to tell Cage when he comes back then we’re _both_ going to be in deep shit, Lorelei.”

 

 _A man’s voice_ , Clarke thought. _But a young man._

 

“You’d better get used to calling him President Wallace the Third now.” _A woman’s voice._ “And for that matter Calvin, you can call me Doctor Tsing. And no one is going to be in any kind of shit because as soon as we’ve ran the bloodwork then we’ll know what we’re working with.”

 

There was silence for a few moments.  

 

The woman spoke again. “Well? Don’t just stand there. Take the goddamn blood! And make sure you get plenty. We’ve got a lot of testing to get through.”

 

Clarke heard who she presumed to be the man approach her where she lay. Her heartbeat quickened as she felt him push her sleeve up and then she could hear noises of things being picked up to her right. When she felt it was the right moment and could no longer stop herself, her eyes cracked open to see the man, who was wearing a white lab coat, turning back around to face her with a needle in his hand. He looked so startled to see her awake that his expression was almost comical. Clarke took this moment of hesitation to use the momentum of sitting up to force the heel of her hand hard and fast up into his nose. She heard a cracking sound and the man dropped the needle, his hands flying to his face.

 

“Fuck!” he shouted, stumbling backwards, blood spraying from his nose.

 

Clarke looked to her right and saw a table of instruments there. She swiped the scalpel up and rolled from the table putting it between her and them. She saw now that the table was actually a metal gurney, and a quick scan around the room showed it to be of the clinical variety.

 

The woman looked on from the other side of the room, wide-eyed but not scared like the man.

 

Clarke held the scalpel in her fist, pointing it downwards. She breathed heavily, her heart hammering in her chest. The floor under her bare feet was cold.  

 

“You broke my fucking nose you bitch!” the man screamed, his hands still clutching at his face, his lab coat now covered in blood.

 

Clarke said nothing. She felt like a caged animal, waiting to pounce on anyone who would come near her.

 

“Be quiet Calvin,” the woman said evenly, her eyes fixed on Clarke. “Perhaps if you had sedated our guest correctly that wouldn’t have happened.”

 

“Guest?” Clarke fired back. “Are you kidding me? I’m your prisoner and you’re trying to experiment on me.”

 

The woman took a small step forward and Clarke raised the scalpel a little. The woman, _Dr Tsing_ , Clarke remembered, stopped and put her hands up indicating she wasn’t coming any further.

 

“Technically we only want to run some experiments on your blood, not on you. No one here wants to hurt you.”

 

It sounded so hollow that Clarke could barely stifle the bitter laugh that bubbled up.

 

“So that’s why you came in the middle of the night and gassed people, SHOT people in the head. Because you don’t want to hurt anyone?”

 

The Doctor and broken nose guy - _Calvin_ \- shared a glance.

 

“We don’t know anything about that. We’re doctors. We follow orders and we’re here to help our people. Your blood might help us to do that.” 

 

The next thing Clarke knew, the door to the clinic was thrust open and a man in a suit came striding through, with two men in beige uniforms flanking him. On seeing the scene before them the uniformed men stopped dead and raised their weapons, pointing them at Clarke. The suited man however kept right on walking, until he was standing directly on the other side of the gurney from Clarke.

 

He smiled at her and it was a slimy, horrible, disconcerting thing.  

 

Clapping his hands together he said, “Oh good, you’re up.”

 

Clarke took him in, being momentarily thrown off her guard by his strange upbeat tone and general demeanor. He wore a crisp white button-down shirt, and a tailored grey suit, the likes of which Clarke had only seen in old movies. His eyes were dark and his face was all hard angles and pale skin, his thick brown hair perfectly styled. It was not a face that Clarke would have trusted, even if she had met him under different circumstances. He had that look of _entitlement_ . _An arrogant prick_ , Clarke thought to herself.

 

“As you have two automatic weapons trained on you right now, I wonder if you’d perhaps like to put the scalpel down so we can have a civilised conversation?” He said this, and bared his teeth in what Clarke supposed was meant to be a bigger smile but just added to her feeling that this man was a predator, a snake in the grass.

 

She let the scalpel clatter to the floor, feeling another piece of her freedom go with it.

 

“Good,” he continued, his grin widening even more. “And a civilised conversation of course starts with introductions. I’m Cage Wallace, President of my race.” He reached his hand forward as if to shake Clarke’s.

 

Clarke looked down at it, then back at his face. Otherwise she made no movement.

 

He lowered his hand and the hideous attempt at a smile fell away, a darker expression settling on him.

 

“They don’t teach you manners in space?” he sneered. “It’s customary in our culture to share your name when meeting someone.”

 

“It’s customary in our culture when meeting someone not to gas them and take them hostage,” she shot back, her voice low and dangerous.

 

“Touché,” he said with a slight shrug.

 

“When you say President of your race, you get that you’re part of the human race, right?” Clarke asked, the condescension dripping in her voice. “Or have you and your people been stuck in this mountain so long you think you’re special?”

 

The tension in the room seemed to increase at this. Broken nose Calvin shifted behind Cage, now holding a towel to his face, and the two uniformed men seemed to renew their focus in training their weapons on Clarke.

 

“Oh I know we’re special,” Cage said, that thin-lipped smile returning to make Clarke want to look away. But she didn’t. “And you’re going to help us to reach our full potential and take back our rightful place in this world again. But first, you’re going to tell me your name.”

 

Clarke held his stare, a moment passing. She did not speak.

 

“Fine,” Cage said, nodding and turning. “Let’s take a walk then.”

 

He nodded at the guards, who started to approach Clarke, their weapons still raised. She startled, stepping backwards, but there was nowhere to go as her heel hit the wall.

 

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I don’t want to have to handcuff you. As I said, I like to at least _try_ to keep things civilised.”

 

And so Clarke slowly came out from behind the gurney, walking past the Doctor, broken nose guy, and out the door with the man that had in a few short minutes shown himself to be the least trustworthy human being she had thus far ever encountered.

 

 _What could go wrong,_ she thought, as she desperately tried not to limp and act as if every part of her body wasn’t screaming in agony. A shudder passed over her, and she knew it wasn’t from the cold floor.  

 

* * *

 

They made their way along a brightly lit corridor with the guards bringing up the rear, their heavy presence causing the hairs on Clarke’s neck to stand up. Cage did not speak and set a brisk pace, so it was all Clarke could do to keep up in her weakened state. She tried to take in as much as she could about the place she was in, but it was a fairly nondescript corridor and there was little of note on the doors they passed to indicate what might lie on the other side. They did pass one set of double doors with glass windows set into the upper half. Clarke tried to subtly slow her walk, peering in to try and make out anything inside. They had passed the doors in seconds but she had glimpsed a dimly lit room that seemed to be some sort of hospital set-up. There were multiple beds, and she was fairly certain she had seen at least some of those beds occupied.

 

Cage then stopped abruptly and jammed his finger to a button on the wall.

 

 _An elevator…._ Clarke thought. She had never been in one before. The Ark areas where she grew up were mostly all on one level, or they used stairs to move between floors.

 

The elevator ride was….awkward. She tried her best to shrink back as much as possible into the back corner, but it was a small space and the atmosphere was stifling. Although it was still preferable to the alternative of Cage trying to engage her in conversation, and so for this awkward silence she was grateful.

 

Thankfully they reached their destination quickly and the two guards stepped out. Cage gestured for her to go ahead of him and Clarke barely contained an eye roll at the false attempt at chivalry.

 

After a short walk down another corridor they entered a room marked ‘Control’. There was a large desk with various buttons and switches, at least a few computer terminals and on the wall, a bank of screens. Clarke counted twenty five of these.

 

Cage walked to the desk and pressed a few buttons. Clarke scanned the images on the screens. _CCTV camera feeds_ , she thought.

 

“Tell me your name,” Cage said, sounding bored.

 

Clarke flicked her eyes to him, and thought about how dark and soulless his looked staring back at her.

 

“No,” she responded, raising her chin.

 

Cage’s upper lip twitched, a sneer pulling from the corner of his mouth. “Tell me your name or I promise you, you will regret it.”

 

“Whatever you plan on doing to me, you’re going to do anyway. So why don’t you just get on with it.”

 

Her mouth was dry. She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious for or how much time had passed since she had been taken. How long since she had last had a drink. She told herself it was due to the lack of fluids and nothing to do with the undercurrent of fear she was desperately trying to push down.

 

“Oh you’ve got that right. We’ll be getting to the blood-letting in just a jiffy. But first I want your name, and if you don’t give it to me, I’m going to send a missile rocketing towards that pathetic little settlement we snatched you up from.” He clenched his fist and exploded his fingers outwards, his eyes bulging maniacally at the same time. “BOOM!”

 

Clarke hesitated, trying to grasp what he was saying. “I don’t believe you. You’re just trying to blackmail me.”

 

Cage turned and pressed a button. He pointed to a screen. Clarke saw what she knew to be Tondc there. She saw huts and tents, smoke curling up from fires, _people_.

 

The feed changed and she saw a great number of warriors, mostly on horseback, moving along a road.

 

“Their great Commander has clearly rallied the troops to come to protect that filthy outpost. By the time they arrive later today, the numbers there will have swelled to eight hundred souls.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Eight hundred souls….are you willing to have that on your conscience over some silly little stand-off about a name?”

 

Right now there was only one name that was repeating itself in her mind. _Lexa_ . _Lexa would be there._

 

She scanned the screens again. _So many cameras_. Each of the feeds changed every few moments to reveal a different view. It looked to Clarke like they were spying on every part of life outside these walls. There was something especially disquieting about this, and a feeling of foreboding hung over her like a dark shadow . For the first time she thought about getting out of this place, and how she would tell Lexa about the cameras. They could tear them all down. Get their freedom back....

 

But she feared nothing would be working out as simply as that.

 

Cage was looking at her expectantly, with that ever present unhinged glint in his eyes.

 

“I wouldn’t test me,” he said, moving over to another control panel. “I have the launch codes memorised and all it will take is a few presses of a button and that missile will be on its way. The last one we launched left a crater half a mile wide so I’m just dying to see what we could do this time. Oh and don’t think for a minute I’m bluffing about the weaponry. This was a military facility in case you hadn’t worked that out, and everything down to the last bullet has been kept in mint condition.”

 

She felt the last of her defiance slip away, and she breathed deep before forcing the words out through gritted teeth.

 

“It’s Clarke, Clarke Griffin.”

 

Cage’s mouth dropped open slightly and a look of surprise crossed his features. He stared at her slack-jawed for a good long moment, before that demonic smile returned once more.

 

“Oh my. Well would you look at that.”

 

What was that saying she had heard her dad use before? A phrase so thoroughly obsolete so as to be rendered meaningless when you lived in space, yet Jake had still insisted on repeating it regularly. _He looked like the cat that got the cream._

 

* * *

 

Anya made her way back towards Tondc, picking a path in between the many newly erected tents and sleeping bodies on bedrolls. The large contingent of warriors had arrived after dark and now almost encircled the village with their encampment. Anya had gone to pass Lexa’s orders to Indra. The late hour meant that the official briefing counsel would not happen until daybreak.

 

On seeing the General again, she had found her to be even more short-tempered and formidable than usual. Lexa had not wanted her to leave Poils, probably preferring her to stay to keep Titus in line. But Indra was her most trusted General, and Indra was Indra, and as such Anya knew that there was no way in hell that she would have stayed behind when there was a fight to be had.

 

And then there was the matter of Gustus....once word had reached the woman that he had been killed, and by the Maunon no less, wild horses would not have kept her away. Although it had never been spoken, Anya knew it to be true that they had all loved one another like family, and respected each other as warriors. Indra’s loyalty to Lexa, and to their people, was rivalled only by Anya’s own.

 

She felt a constricting of her chest as she once again had the crashing realisation that Gustus was gone, and she remained. A full day had not even passed since the attack, yet it felt like so much longer under the heavy cloak of guilt she now wore. She had lost six other men last night. Her clansmen. Her _brothers._ Their lives snuffed out in an instant by their worst enemy. Anya _loathed_ them.

 

Of course Trikru had other enemies, Azgeda being a prime example. The treaty that Lexa had forged had afforded a semblance of relative peace with them of late, but Anya knew that this was always going to be tenuous at best. There had been too much bloodshed between the clans for a mere few years of truce to overturn that. But with time, she knew that a true long-lasting state of peace _was_ a possibility. Lexa had helped her to see that. But that was Azgeda. Even as a clan that had displayed more savagery and violence than any other, she could still respect them and relate to them. She understood the nature of feudal warfare and why it had evolved between them in such a manner. But the Maunon…..no. They were a different matter. To her they were evil incarnate. She had grown up with them as the monsters who stalked her dreams. Her mother when still a child had lost both her parents to the fire they had dropped from above, along with hundreds more. The people who had been picked off, one by one, disappearing into thin air, only to return as _Ripas_. Monsters made by monsters. No...there could never be peace with the Maunon. Not after a hundred years of them terrorising her people’s very existence.

 

As she walked she mulled over recent developments. She did not know quite what to make of everything Lexa had revealed to her earlier that day. Whilst her initial reaction to the Skai Girl had been one of general disdain, after learning of Lexa’s... _connection_ to her, she was now begrudgingly having to accept that all of their fate’s could somehow be tied to her. This didn’t mean Anya now trusted the girl, or even that she fully accepted or understood everything Lexa had told her. She had never really been one for the more spiritual elements of Trikru culture. She had risen to clan leader by embracing the physical, tangible strengths she possessed. She felt an affinity to the forest and to the earth as much as any of her kinsfolk, but again she considered that to be rooted in the physical, the _real._ When Lexa had been under her tutelage as her Second, Anya had taught her the ways and the beliefs of their people. She had prepared her the best she could for becoming Heda, but she had always known that there was so much more to the mythology of the Nightbloods, and that she was not completely privy to all of this information. When Lexa had ascended, Anya had seen a change in her, not just from the toll the Ascension Day had taken, or the burden she now carried as Commander of the Blood. Anya had known that there was something more, something different that was now as much a part of Lexa as the tattoos that adorned her skin.

 

And then there was Titus with his pompous teachings and constant talk of faith and protocol and duty. Anya had never liked the Fleimkepa but over the years had mostly been able to avoid having too much direct contact with him. She had never pried too much into what had really happened to Lexa on that day when she went from being her fifteen year old Second to commanding an entire nation of people. But she had always known that _something_ intrinsic had fundamentally changed. Now she knew what that something was. The Flame was in her. And it allowed her to speak with Commander’s long dead. It was her nightblood that allowed this to happen. And it was the nightblood that connected her to the Skai Girl.

 

Anya was fairly hazy on the details of all of this, but Lexa had explained it to her and Nyko the best she could, and had tried to convey the magnitude of the Skai Girl’s importance in the wider picture. Anya understood that Lexa did not have all of the answers at her disposal just yet and that communing with the past Commanders was not something that she could readily control. So it was a leap of faith for Anya to accept, particularly with her well-tested wariness towards anything outwith that which she could see, touch, or preferably punch or better yet kill. But, it was Lexa. Lexa who she had known when she was still a babe in her mother’s arms, who she had watched grow into the wisest, strongest and most noble leader that their people had ever seen. She trusted her with every fibre of her being and if she said that it was their fate was to go up against the Maunon, get the Skai Girl back, and somehow stop whatever impending disaster was to befall them, then so be it. Anya would fight for Lexa, she would die for her if she had to. And if they got to bring down the Mountain while they were at it, then she would do it all with a smile on her face.

 

She picked up her pace, intending on paying Heda one last visit before sleep to discuss tomorrow’s plans.

 

* * *

 

Lexa could not sleep. Another new dawn was only hours away, and even though she had now not slept for two days, still that sweet slip into unconsciousness eluded her. She tossed and turned in her furs, only too keenly aware that this time last night, Gustus was being taken from her. _Clarke_ was being taken from her. She kept seeing her face, pained and scared, right before the gas overcame them.

 

She threw the furs off and stood up from the bed, scraping her hands roughly through her hair. She let out a loud growl, part frustration, part anger.

 

“Heda? Are you alright?” an anxious voice called from outside the tent.

 

It was Conic. He and Iona were stationed outside, on Indra’s orders despite Lexa’s protests that it wasn’t necessary. They were two of her best, and Lexa had a feeling that Indra would be insisting on them becoming her shadows for the foreseeable future.

 

“Sha, Conic. I’m alright,” she called back.

 

She moved to the water jug and poured herself a cup, taking a few sips before setting it down again.

 

Before retiring for the night Nyko had come to her to offer a sleep tea, being only too aware of how agitated she was. But she had refused, telling him that the potent mixture would have too much of a numbing effect. She needed to give herself the best chance of connecting with Clarke - if it was even possible, and she knew that knocking herself out with forest herbs was not going to be the way to do that. Her mind needed to be clear. So she had gone to bed and her mind had been the opposite of clear, the previous day and night’s events all playing over and over again behind her eyelids every time she closed them.

 

After pacing the tent for a few lengths, she stopped and sucked in a deep breath, trying to wrest back some composure. She sat down on the rug at the foot of the bed, crossing her legs and closing her eyes. Titus was many things and Lexa had often struggled with accepting the importance of all of his teachings, but one of the things that he had taught her that had been of immeasurable value was this. The ability to empty her mind of the whirlwind of thoughts. To breathe, and to listen to her own body’s rhythms, and then to allow her consciousness to open up - sending it out far far away, beyond her current physical being, back in time, amongst the trees and the earth, and occasionally, to the very epicentre of the Commander legacy.

 

Right now her main purpose in meditating was to allow sleep to come. She had no conscious thought of anything else happening than stopping the relentless spinning wheel of images that had been haunting her. Perhaps no conscious thought, but her subconscious had other ideas.

 

Because as she focused on the deep inhalations and exhalations filling her lungs, she felt herself slowly leave the place where she sat, drifting further and further away until she was no longer there at all.

 

Instead she found herself in a room. No longer sitting but….lying down.

 

As she opened her eyes fully she realised she was on her side, and her body was under some sort of cover. _A bed_. She could feel a soft pillow beneath her head.

 

She remained very still but began to take in the parts of the room within her field of vision.  

 

There was a window covered by a wooden blind, daylight filtering through the edges. Was that _glass_?

 

The floor was a dark wood and a sheepskin rug rested beside the bed. Casting her eyes to the far end of the room Lexa saw an elegant chaise lounge, or at least it would have been elegant if it hadn’t been covered in clothes. Some were in piles, folded neatly, and some were cast haphazardly over the back. It was hard to tell from here but it looked to be women’s clothing, albeit some of it in much brighter colours than Lexa was used to seeing.

 

She moved her head slightly to look to the bedside table, which had on it what she knew to be a lamp, and a framed….. _photograph_.

 

Lexa jolted upright. _Clarke_ . Clarke and _her._ They were smiling at each other, Clarke’s arms wrapped around Lexa, their faces close. They wore odd looking woolen hats and scarves, and there was snow on the ground behind them.

 

She started to reach her hand out to pick it up when she felt the energy in the air shift.

 

She now found herself standing at the foot of the bed, looking down at a sleeping Clarke.

 

Lexa blinked a few times, her mouth falling open slightly.

 

Clarke was on her back on the opposite side to where Lexa had lain moments before. Her blonde hair splayed out on the pillow around her, the sun glinting off the golden highlights giving her an ethereal quality.

 

_The sun…._

 

Lexa glanced to the window, only just noticing that the blind was now drawn up and daylight poured into the bedroom. She squinted as she took in what she saw outside. Trees with their bright green leaves rustling gently in the breeze, other buildings across the street. The tarmacked street. Just as she was trying to put together where she could be, _when_ she could be, a car trundled past.

 

She knew it to be a car, having read about the petrol-fuelled moving vehicles many times in the books that were stacked in the Tower library. Yet knowing what one was, and actually connecting that to the two tons of metal she saw moving quickly down the perfectly smooth road was a difficult thing to reconcile.

 

It was strange here. Her thoughts and her physical presence felt….different.

 

It was as if a haze surrounded her, and the usual sharp efficiency with which she was required to use her mind and her body was softened somehow. Not quite the feeling she knew from dreams, but not like the reality in which she usually resided. A state of something...other.  

 

Turning back to Clarke, she willed herself to move to her side. Sitting tentatively on the bed she watched as the other girl’s chest rose and fell as she slept. Her face was devoid of any of the bruises and cuts that had decorated it the last time Lexa had seen her. It was now perfectly clear, her fair complexion seeming to glow under the sun’s rays.

 

_You look well._

 

Lexa drank in the other girl’s presence, wondering what she should do.

 

_Do you sleep there and that is why you sleep here?_

 

As if she had somehow heard these thoughts, Clarke’s eyes fluttered open.

 

“Lexa,” she croaked, her voice sounding strained and exhausted.

 

Lexa took her hand and Clarke moved her eyes to hers. “Clarke. I’m here. I’m here.”

 

Blue eyes struggled to focus, and a tongue swept over a bottom lip in an effort to speak.

 

“They know who I am.”

 

Lexa’s eyebrows knitted together. “Who you are? Someone from the sky?”

 

Clarke shook her head slightly, in what looked to be with gruelling effort. “Not just that. What you told me. About the First….Commander.” A pause while Clarke closed her eyes. Lexa held her breath, unconsciously leaning in. Clarke’s eyes opened again. Lexa noticed beads of sweat now forming on her face.

 

“They know....about....Becca,” she said through gritted teeth, a flash of pain crossing her features. “Taking….my….blood.”

 

Lexa felt her grip her hand sharply and saw her eyes slip closed again.

 

Trying to parse this information but keep Clarke with her she said, “Clarke! Tell me what you mean? How could they know that?”

 

Clarke opened her eyes once again, this time focusing more clearly on Lexa, but her voice still strained and sluggish. “She was here….I mean there, in the Mountain. Back at the beginning. She tried to help them with the....nightblood,...but something happened. I don’t know what. They killed her.” She choked out this last part.

 

Lexa was stunned, unable to respond.

 

“Now they want my blood,” Clarke continued.

 

“What for?” Lexa managed, her own voice sounding strangled.

 

Clarke pressed her head back into the pillow, inhaling sharply before locking eyes with Lexa once more.

 

“So they can walk the earth again.”

 

Lexa felt a white hot anger flare up inside of her. “I will destroy any that try to. Not this way. They cannot have it like this.”

 

“That’s just it though,” Clarke said, softer now, “I think he plans on destroying you first. The__” A spasm ran through her body, but she forced herself on, “__missiles. I think he plans on using them. Must….get….people away from villages and….capital. They have cameras, Lexa. Eyes to see you with everywhere. You need to find...them and destroy them." 

 

Sweat was now rolling down Clarke’s face and her breathing had become shallow, as if she was fighting a great battle to stay there.

 

“I will come for you, Clarke. I will get you out of there. You must hold on.” Lexa tried to sound as confident and reassuring as she could, needing her to know she would not abandon her, that she would not be left to rot inside that hellish place with those monsters.

 

Clarke attempted a small smile but it did not reach her now rapidly dulling eyes.

 

“I know. But think of your...people now. They need you to keep...them...safe.”

 

Lexa stared at Clarke, an encroaching feeling of helplessness enveloping her.

 

“I can’t stay any longer. Too...hard.”

 

Lexa watched Clarke’s eyes drift close again.

 

She squeezed her hand, not ready to let go. “I will come for you. This is not how it ends. Oso gonplei nou ste odon.”

 

She could see Clarke’s eyes flickering under the lids and she could feel her grip still strong in her hand. Her lips moved slightly and Lexa held her breath, waiting to see if more words would come.

 

An almost too quiet to hear mumble passed those lips and Lexa leaned in again. What she heard made her heart skip a beat and a gasp left her in a rush of breath. The room began to fade from around her, a blackness taking over. Clarke receded from her vision, the feeling of her hand disappearing, until Lexa felt herself corporeal and real and whole once again.

 

She opened her eyes to see that she was once again sitting cross-legged on the floor of her tent, the candles that had been lit continuing to burn.

 

Clarke’s words repeated themselves in her mind as clear as a bell.

 

_The Flame. They have another Flame._

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trig translations:
> 
> niron - love  
> Ripas - Reapers  
> Fleimkepa - Flamekeeper  
> sha - yes  
> Oso gonplei nou ste odon - Our fight is not over
> 
>  
> 
> I'd love to know what you think. Leave a comment here or come chat to me over on Tumblr - [weasal](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/weasal)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie. I'm quite proud of myself for getting this chapter done in 2 months instead of 6 (just let me have this pitiful achievement ok). I really loved writing it, but it definitely had its challenges. I hope it's a good read. 
> 
> Special thanks to my special other two thirds GramChos, otherwise known as my wife and Sinheda Nachos the Infamous. Your feedback does wonders for my confidence, golden gals! 
> 
> The soundtrack to this chapter is [Dust by Haelos](https://open.spotify.com/track/16gvjuZGmibA3348jWdjKV) and the lyrics kind of feel like they were written for it.

 

 

 

 

>  
> 
>  
> 
> **"I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you”**

 

 

Anya stiffened in her saddle as they came out from the trees and she spotted Lincoln. She had known he would hear them coming so she wasn’t surprised to see him in a partial fighting stance, one hand gripping a staff, the other palm flat on the neck of his horse. A grooming brush lay abandoned on the grass at his feet.

 

The mare let out a whinny of recognition, and her group’s three horses snorted and whinnied in return.

 

Lincoln visibly relaxed when he saw her and her two riders.

 

“Scout the perimeter. Look for the eyes,” she said to the men flanking her.

 

They nodded in response before heeling their horses and trotting away.

 

She clicked for her horse to walk towards the cave entrance, where she dismounted.

 

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” Lincoln said with a questioning look.

 

Anya thought to herself how she too had not expected to see Lincoln again, perhaps for a very long time. You can’t exactly exile someone and then drop by for some tea. Especially when you share more history with that someone than you would care to admit.

 

She also hadn’t expected to see quite so much of him. He stood before her in only pants and boots, his dark brown skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat from the heat of the day. Anya swallowed and averted her eyes, not wanting to look at the thick black tattoos on his chest that she had mirrored on her own body.

 

She rolled her shoulders, trying to loosen the muscles after the hard ride. She hadn’t allowed their party to let up for even a moment, which reminded her___

 

“My horse needs water,” she said, gesturing to where the huge brown creature now nuzzled into the side of Lincoln’s horse.

 

He said nothing in reply but just led the horse to the water trough.  

 

“What’s happened?” he asked, walking back towards her, grabbing a shirt from where it lay on a rock and slipping it over his head.

 

Anya sighed. _Where to start._

 

“Tondisi was attacked a few nights ago. The Maunon.” She spat on the ground in disgust at even having to say their name.

 

“But the treaty…” Lincoln said, shock passing over his face.

 

“The treaty is dead, along with Gustus and six of our people. A new leader presides in the Mountain and he has no interest in peace.”

 

Lincoln looked taken aback for a moment before his look softened.

 

“I’m so sorry, Anya. For your losses. And for Gustus. I know he was special to you, and to Lexa.”

 

She nodded stiffly, feeling uncomfortable under his gentle gaze.

 

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here though,” he added.

 

Lincoln would know that there had to be another reason for her to have ridden all the way out here.

 

“The Skai Girl,” she replied evenly.

 

His eyes flashed. “Clarke__. Is she alright?”

 

Anya hesitated slightly. “They came for her. That’s why they attacked. We know she’s alive but….they have her.”

 

Lincoln turned away from her, kicking a stone aggressively as he swore in Trigedasleng, something she had rarely heard him do.

 

He looked at her again, his rage no less palpable.

 

“I’ll go to her. I know where their Reaper tunnels are. I can get in.”

 

Anya rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You may be able to get in, but how would you get out again? They have more firepower than we can stand up to and they’re now threatening to send missiles. Between that and their acid fog and the fact that a badly planned rescue mission could actually get Clarke hurt….”

 

“What do you care about Clarke?” Lincoln asked incredulously. “You would happily have killed her yourself only days ago.”

 

“That was when I thought she was the _enemy_. Things have changed.”

 

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You said you knew she was safe__”

 

She nodded.

 

“And that the Maunon were threatening a missile__”

 

“Yes.”

 

She saw the cogs turning in the head of her old friend. He had always been one of the most astute and perceptive people she had known, even when they were small children. Undoubtedly one of the reasons they had been so close…

 

“How are you getting this information? There’s no way they would show their hand with something so important.”

 

Anya sighed again. _How to explain_ , she thought wearily.

 

“Everything is to be on a need to know basis only. Heda sent me here to make one request of you.”

 

The look he gave her conveyed his frustration. “Lexa doesn’t make requests. What do I need to do?”

 

“We’ve discovered the Maunon have their eyes everywhere across our territory. What they call ‘cameras’. These pieces of tech feed live pictures back to the Mountain so they could be watching our every move. Tondisi is being evacuated as we speak, as are other Trikru villages in the vicinity. We don’t know how far their missiles can travel, but unless we can somehow figure out a way to take down their eyes, Lexa is on the brink of evacuating Polis.”

 

Lincoln let out a long breath, rubbing his hand over his head. “Polis? But that’s thousands of people and days of riding away. Surely the missiles couldn’t travel that far? And where would all those people go?”

 

“These are all questions we don’t know the answers to. And that’s why we need help with finding the eyes and destroying them. We’ll never win if they can anticipate every step of our strategy. This is our chance to finally take down the Mountain.”

 

“So you want me to join the search for these eyes?”

 

Anya shook her head. “No. We’ve had scouts out for several days now and they’ve had very little success. One or two have been discovered in trees, but it’s like finding a needle in a haystack. We have no idea of their number and they’re so small that the task is impossible.”

 

“What then?” Lincoln asked.

 

Anya levelled one of her infamous steely stares at him.

 

“The radio.”

 

A pause.

 

“Lexa wants you to get on Clarke’s radio and contact her people. We need their help, Lincoln.”

 

* * *

 

The gunfire had died down for the first time in what felt like hours and Raven was glad for the reprieve. She had been working tirelessly at her station, trying to figure out solutions to the shitstorm of predicaments they now found themselves in.

 

Since the Council had arrested Abby and threatened to float her, along with rounding up as many dissidents as they could find and throwing them in the Skybox, the Rebellion had been pushed to their limits.

 

The Ark was now split into two factions. On one side there was Chancellor Jaha and the Council, along with the majority of Arkers. On the other side, the other _literal_ side, there was the small group of rebel fighters. Using Raven’s engineering skills they had managed to seal off part of the space station, and up until now, had managed to hold the line.

 

But it wasn’t sustainable and she knew it.

 

For starters, Abby and Finn were imprisoned on the other side, along with dozens, maybe even hundreds of people who actually wanted to fight for what was right. They had already lost some of their people in attempts to get to the prisoners, and Raven wasn’t about to risk anyone else’s life without a solid plan in place.

 

Octavia appeared at the doorway. Her bare arms, chest and face glistened with sweat, and a short-barrel semi-automatic was slung across her body. She pulled her tanktop up and wiped her face with it.

 

“Fuck, Rave. It’s getting hotter than hell in here.”

 

Raven glanced away, looking back at her screens. “I know. Those bastards are fucking with the thermal control systems and as long as we’re sunny side up, it’s all I can do to keep us from boiling alive. Especially with all this equipment around us___” She gestured absentmindedly to the room around them.

 

“What happens when we go to the night side of the sun?” Octavia asked.

 

“We either get a reprieve or we freeze to death,” Raven replied dryly. “That’s what I’m working on right now.”

 

Octavia lifted an eyebrow in response, but her friend wasn’t looking.

 

“Have you managed to contact Sinclair yet?” she asked gently.

 

Raven pursed her lips. “No. He’s not responding to any of my encrypted messages so all I can think is he must be locked up with the rest of them.”

 

Octavia nodded, again the gesture going unnoticed.

 

“He wasn’t on the prisoner list that Bellamy stole….” she started.

 

“That doesn’t mean jack-shit, O!” Raven said, cutting her off. “With the amount of people they’ve got locked up and with all the shit that’s going down with the firefights, they’re not gonna be keeping meticulous records. So either he’s in the Skybox or he’s laying low and trying to make things happen from the inside.”

 

“Okay. Okay.” She took a few steps forwards until she was in Raven’s eyeline. “Hey, look at me.”

 

Raven looked up at her, feeling exhausted and not in the mood for an argument.

 

“I’m not saying anything about Sinclair. If you trust him then I do too. I’ve got your back here. We all do.”

 

She sighed, sitting back in her chair. “I know. I didn’t mean to bite your head off. I’m just...feeling the pressure.” She ran her hands over her hair, tightening her ponytail.

 

“No wonder. You’ve not left that work station for days. When did you last sleep?”

 

Raven laughed. “I don’t remember.”

 

Octavia frowned, worry evident on her face.

 

Shaking her head she said, “So you’ll never guess who showed up about fifteen minutes ago at the Mecha station blockade.”

 

“Who?” Raven asked, not having a clue.

 

“Wells.”

 

“No way,” Raven breathed out, shocked. “What does he want?”

 

“I know, right?” Octavia replied. “He’s claiming he wants to come on to our side.”

 

“He’s _defecting_?!” Raven asked, incredulous.

 

“Well that’s just it. He says he was never on the other side; that he hasn’t agreed with anything Jaha has done and he’s just been waiting for the right opportunity to get away.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“Mm-hm. He also asked about Clarke. Rave, he doesn’t know she’s gone.”

 

“Well maybe he should have thought of that before he fucked her over,” Raven said darkly.

 

She had told Octavia some of what had gone on between the old friends, but it was hard to explain the intricacies of just how bad Wells’ betrayal had been to someone who hadn’t known them.

 

“Anyway, Bellamy and the others are holding him now for questioning. I guess the trust level isn’t too high there. In the meantime things have calmed down for a while at least. Go lie down on that cot right now and close your eyes. You can’t keep going like this.”

 

“I can’t, O. I need to be here in case Clarke gets in contact. I can’t let her down.”

 

Octavia walked forward and put her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I’m here. I’ll listen for the radio. You sleep.”

 

Raven put her hand over Octavia’s and squeezed it. “You’re a good friend, Lil O. Thanks.”

 

Octavia gave her a small smile and stepped back. “Go. The cot is right there. Anything happens, I’ll wake you.”

 

Raven nodded. Standing, she stretched her limbs before walking the few steps to the makeshift bed and collapsing into it. She was asleep before her head even hit the pillow.

 

* * *

 

When Octavia shook her awake she felt like she had been asleep for all of five minutes.

 

“Whaa….what is it? Are the goons breaking through?” she croaked out, disorientation clouding her thoughts.

 

“No, no, that’s fine,” Octavia said. “It’s the radio.”

 

She shot up to sitting. “Clarke?”

 

Octavia shook her head. “It’s that Lincoln guy again. He says he needs to speak to you.”

 

“Shit.”

 

She crossed the room and grabbed the receiver. “This is Raven. What’s happening down there?”

 

The familiar deep voice of the Grounder man came through the speaker. _“There’s been an incident regarding Clarke. We need your help to get her back. You’d be helping all of our people down here too.”_

 

Raven looked to Octavia with a grave expression, her eyes narrowing.

 

She pressed the talk button again. “What the _fuck_ has happened to Clarke? I thought you said she was _safe_ with your people. You said they were taking _care_ of her.”

 

_“They were. Our Commander had her under her personal protection but the village was attacked by our enemy from the Mountain. They had guns and killed several people. They took Clarke with them back to the Mountain.”_

 

“Fuck,” Raven muttered without pressing the talk button, swiping at her brow. Something clicked in her head then.

 

“When you say the mountain do you mean Mount Weather? I thought that was long abandoned.”

 

_“Yes. In our language we call them the Maunon, or the Mountain Men in yours. They’ve resided within the Mountain since before the bombs and can only spend minimal time on the outside using breathing apparatus. They’ve always been our enemy but an uneasy truce has mostly held, up until now. At least where it concerns them coming into our villages and killing people.”_

 

“So what changed?” Raven asked brusquely.

 

They heard static for a few moments.

 

_“Their last leader appears to have either died or been usurped. The new one is his son and seems to be more interested in warmongering than peacemaking.”_

 

A beat and then___

 

_“And Clarke. Clarke is the other thing that changed.”_

 

“What do they want with her? Some sort of bargaining chip? But that makes no sense if she has nothing and nobody down there, godammit.” She smashed her fist down on the bench, her frustration catching up to her. Octavia jumped slightly at the outburst and moved forward to place a calming hand on her shoulder.

 

_“We think they want her blood. To help them to walk freely through our lands. There’s more to it but I don’t have all the information. It’s...complicated.”_

 

Octavia grabbed the receiver from Raven. “You say that a lot you know. Why should we trust you when the last time we heard from you, you had been banished by your own people? And what exactly are you asking us to do? In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re in a space station two hundred and fifty miles away right now.”

 

There was nothing but static for a long moment, and Raven gave Octavia a quizzical look as they waited for a response.

 

It was not the one they were expecting.

 

 _“I am Anya, Leader of Trigedakru, and I speak for Lexa kom Trikru, Commander of the Twelve Clans.”_ The voice coming through was distinctly female, with a hard edge. _“If you want to save your friend then you will need to trust us. Because right now our only hope of getting into that mountain and getting her out alive is by taking down their tech. And the Commander believes that’s something you might be able to help with.”_

 

Raven and Octavia shared another look, the turn of events leaving them feeling momentarily shell-shocked.

 

Raven gathered herself, taking the receiver back from Octavia and pressing the talk button again.

 

“Well, Anya of the Tree whatevers. Your Commander believed right. You’ve managed to get through to the last IT support line in this solar system. Tell me what we’re working with…..”

 

* * *

 

Clarke only picked up on vague snippets here and there of the conversations that went on around her as she slipped in and out of consciousness. Random words and sentences snatched from the air, splicing through the fog.

 

____can you believe she’s a Griffin___

 

_Cage is losing his shit. Did you see that look in___

 

____DNA match for Becca___

 

____ heals radiation sickness in a third of the time that the savages’ blood does. Just imagine what her bone marrow could___

 

_A transfusion alone isn’t enough. The AI just keeps killing the test subjects____

 

_No more blood for now. She’s too depleted._

 

Something inside of her told her to fight, to swim to the top of the ocean that was drowning her. She remembered the feeling of Lexa’s hand in hers, telling her that she would come for her. But each time just as she felt she might push up above the waves and gasp for air, the drugs or the exhaustion or just the sheer weight of it all would pull her under again. She didn’t know how long she drifted for….

 

_Clarke….Clarke, wake up._

 

_You need to wake up now, Clarke. Listen to my voice and try to open your eyes._

 

Clarke groaned, not knowing where she was or why she was being shaken.

 

“Yes that’s it. You’re safe and you need to wake up. Open your eyes.”

 

The voice was clearer now. It sounded like it belonged to a young woman, soft but urgent.

 

She forced her eyes open, blinking rapidly as they adjusted to the dim light.

 

“Here, sip some water.” She felt a hand at the back of her head, lifting her up gently and a straw pressing to her lips. She pulled on it, gulping down the liquid.

 

_How different it tasted to that first drink of Earth water that Lincoln had given her…. all that time ago. Wait_____

 

“How long have I been here for?” she croaked out, her voice sounding rough to her ears. She looked at the young woman who was placing the cup back on the table beside the bed. Clarke guessed she was probably around her age. Soft brown curls fell to her shoulders and she had a kind, heart-shaped face.

 

“Days now. I’m not sure how many exactly. I’ve only been assigned to you for the past forty eight hours.”

 

“Are you a guard?” Clarke asked, an edge to her voice.

 

The girl frowned. “God no. I just help here at the Medical Unit. My name is Maya Vie.”

 

Clarke swallowed thickly and looked away. Her limbs felt heavy and her head felt groggy. At least she didn’t appear to be in any pain though. That was a first for all the times she had woken from being unconscious since she had landed on the ground. She looked down and saw a bandage on her hand covering an IV line which led to a clear bag on a stand. In the crook of her elbow on the same arm was a plastic stent, presumably for when they had been taking her blood.

 

“What do you have me on?” she asked, lifting her hand.

 

“They’ve been giving you a sedative to keep you under, and some pretty strong painkillers. But I switched the flow off about an hour ago. That’s why you’re awake now. I _am_ sorry though because that means you might start to feel some pain from your injuries again.”

 

Clarke looked to the girl. “Injuries?”

 

The girl grimaced slightly. “Well, of course you know about the ones you came in with. Your leg, shoulder; your ribs. I wasn’t there but I heard that when they were pulling you off of President Wallace they knocked you around quite a bit. You have a pretty awful black eye there and a horrible bruise at your temple.” She nodded at Clarke’s face.

 

The memory came back to Clarke now. His disgusting smarmy face and the way he tried to pretend he _knew something_ about her family. She smiled slightly as she remembered kicking him where it really hurt, bare feet and all, before slamming her fist into his face.

 

“What does _he_ have?” she asked.

 

The girl smirked. “A broken nose and _two_ black eyes.”

 

The corner of her mouth tugged up slightly. At least she could take some satisfaction from that.

 

“So you’ve taken me off the meds, woken me up, there’s no one else around, and you seem to be relishing in your idiot leader’s face and pride being smashed in by me, your supposed enemy. What’s the deal, Maya?”

 

The smirk disappeared from Maya’s face. “He’s not my leader. He’s a psychotic monster. I don’t agree with the road he’s going down and I definitely don’t agree with his plans for you. I’m going to help you, Clarke.”

 

Clarke studied her face, trying to look for any deception there. The girl seemed genuine but Clarke needed to be sure before she could put her trust in her.

 

She started to try to sit up.

 

“Here, let me,” Maya said standing and pressing something that raised the bed into more of a seated position. She reached behind Clarke and in that practised way of a nurse, rearranged the pillows behind her back.  

 

“Thanks,” Clarke said, shifting to get more comfortable. “What can you tell me about Cage’s plans? He was threatening missiles at the villages and at Polis. That’s how he forced my name out of me.”

 

Maya took her seat again. “Those missiles don’t have the range to get to Polis. The villages closer to us are definitely within range and therefore in danger, although…”

 

“What?” 

 

“Well that’s just it. Cage has been practically apoplectic these past few days because our entire CCTV network on the outside has gone down. My father works in Technical and he says all they know is that the signal is being jammed somehow. But they have no idea how. What that means though is that they have no eyes on where anyone is. No way of knowing where to send a missile to. Apparently Cage was on the verge of sending one anyway to the place I believe used to be Washington DC, and the only reason they talked him down from that is because there are only a few missiles left. And down here, resource preservation, especially _weapons_ resources, even overrules our President’s god complex.”

 

Clarke chewed this over. _The cameras were down?_ What a thrill of victory she felt at hearing that news. She remembered that peaceful almost dreamlike place she had been in with Lexa, what, _days_ ago now? Her present concept of time was completely mixed up. But it didn’t matter. She had told Lexa about how the Mountain were spying on her people and Lexa had done something about it.

 

 _But how? They don’t have any technology at all never mind the capabilities to knock out an entire._ …. _wait_ . Something clicked. _Raven! Oh you beautiful genius bird in the sky._

 

A surge of relief and _hope?_ washed over her as she realised that this could be the only explanation.

 

Clarke swallowed hard to stifle what felt like a sob as she thought about her friends at home. Thinking of Raven working together with Lexa and her people to try to fix this messed up situation was almost too much to take in. She pushed it from her mind and tried to focus on her own immediate problems. She said nothing of her suspicions to Maya.

 

“And what about me?” she asked. “What are they doing with all the blood they’ve taken?”

 

“Mostly they’ve been running tests as far as I can tell. We need regular transfusions of blood you see. To survive the radiation.”

 

“Even down here?”

 

Maya nodded. “If we go too long without, the consequences are fatal. They’ve found that your blood works at about three times the speed and strength of our usual supply. I guess it must be something to do with you living in space?” She shrugged apologetically.

 

Clarke frowned. “What do you mean ‘usual supply’? Where do you normally get the blood from?”

 

Maya immediately looked uncomfortable. “From….the ones on the outside. It’s called the Harvest Project. Nobody talks about it. We’ve been taught not to ask questions. But...there have been times when people have tried to change how things are done, or refused treatments. One way or another all those people died and my mother was one of them. She just couldn’t live like that anymore, knowing that her life was somehow worth more than all those other stolen people.”

 

Clarke didn’t know what to say. Life on The Ark was far from perfect but this was a whole other level of fucked up. Her trust in Maya was slowly starting to grow though as she shared more details of her background and displayed less and less markers of someone there to hurt her.

 

“I’m sorry,” she offered. “About your mom. I lost my Dad because of the people in power where I come from. I guess things are messed up wherever you go now.”

 

Maya gave her a sad smile. “Are they though? You were on the outside before they brought you here. What was it like? We’re taught that the people are savages but I can’t believe that’s the only story. I want to believe there’s some good left in humanity, even if I never get to be part of it.”

 

Clarke’s mind drifted for a moment to green eyes and soft lips. Her heart clenched.

 

“They’re not savages,” she said, looking to Maya. “They’re just people. And from what I saw, they were kind and fair and doing their best to survive in this world.”

 

Maya looked satisfied with the answer, as if it had been what she was hoping for.

 

“Clarke, there’s something I need to tell you. The reason I had to wake you up tonight is because tomorrow they plan to take your bone marrow. When they do that, I...I don’t know what the consequences will be.”

 

“What do they need it for?” Clarke asked, anxiety coiling in her stomach.

 

“From what I can tell, they think it’ll allow them to breathe the air outside. But you’re just one girl, Clarke. You only have enough bone marrow to treat maybe a few people. There’s something else though…”

 

Clarke looked at her expectantly.

 

“They’ve been giving transfusions of your blood to some of our people in the ward next door. And they’ve been trying to embed something in them.”

 

“Embed something? What do you mean?” Clarke asked, even while the answer coalesced in her mind.

 

“I don’t know what it is. All I know is that it’s something very valuable to them, and Cage is using these people as test subjects. But whatever it is, it’s killed every single one of them in minutes.”

 

 _The Flame_ , Clarke thought, _They were testing the Flame on people with her blood running through their veins_.

 

“I know what it is,” she said, looking the other girl straight in the eye. “And Maya? I need you to get it for me.”

 

* * *

 

“You look....not your best,” Anya said bluntly but perhaps with a hint of trepidation in her voice. She fell into step with Lexa as she stalked from the training circle.

 

Lexa walked with purpose, already beginning to unclip the light body armour as she made her way back to her tent. She knew without looking that Conic and Iona would be following behind. Indra and most of her warriors were stationed in a ring outside the camp, but the General had given strict orders to the two to guard their Heda day and night. Their proximity was already beginning to wear thin on Lexa. She appreciated their dedication and she knew they were unparalleled in their ability to protect her, but the serious demeanours they both  snapped into whenever she addressed them made her feel even more stifled.

 

Returning her thoughts to Anya beside her she thought how she was right to tread carefully with her, old First or not. Right now she was in no mood for much of anything. Apart from hitting things. And people. She had just spent the better part of three hours sparring with various warriors in the camp, but as always they had held back with her, not wanting to land any real hits on their Heda. It irritated her. The only people who never held back with her were Anya and Gustus. Anya had flat-out refused to spar with her today and Gustus….

 

She pushed that thought away and said, “Thank you for the kind epithets as always, Anya. That last fighter got lucky with this__” - she pointed to her burst lip.

 

Anya easily kept pace with her, having always had the advantage of slightly longer legs. “That’s not what I meant. You look tired, Lexa. Bone tired. I know you’ve barely slept in days yet you continue to push yourself at every opportunity whether it’s riding out with the Rangers for hours on end or knocking the living _skrish_ out of anyone who’s brave enough to go up against you.”

 

Approaching her tent Lexa splashed water on her face from the bucket outside, attempting to wash away the sweat and clean the black blood she could feel smeared on her mouth.

 

“I’m keeping myself occupied,” she replied, patting herself dry with a rag. “I can’t just sit around and _wait_. Already I feel as if I am doing nothing. As if we are achieving nothing.” She threw the rag down in frustration.

 

Anya shook her head. “But we have achieved so much already. Just think of the lives we have likely saved. With the help of Raven, the Mountain no longer has its eyes on us and we know that their missiles cannot reach the capital. The people of Tondisi sit safe in this camp as do countless more from the other settlements.”

 

“The Maunon have made refugees of my people,” Lexa retorted darkly, casting her eyes to the tents all around them.

 

Anya crossed her arms, always an indicator of when she began to tire of Lexa’s complaints. “A temporary situation. I know you grow impatient but with the acid fog still a threat, we have no choice but to hold off on any kind of attack. Add to that Raven’s warning about the possibility of eyes still functioning at the doors to the Mountain, and it’s too much of a gamble for our army.  Not to mention the risk to Clarke’s life should we try to go in without further information.”

 

Lexa let out a rough breath of exasperation as she scraped her fingers through the hair at her temples. She pushed inside her tent, with Anya on her heels.

 

It felt torturous just waiting here, so close yet so far. She had thought over and over about all the possible ways that they could get Clarke back. She had even considered slipping away by herself, in the dead of the night, to try and steal her way inside that place she thought of as a tomb. But she knew the idea was ridiculous. Not only did she have no idea what she would be facing once inside, she also didn’t even know if Clarke would be conscious in order to escape with her. She could think of no other reason why she hadn’t been able to get back to the dreamlike place again to speak with her. Each night for the past four she had meditated, trying and trying to will herself there. But it was useless and had left her exhausted. Dawn would break and she would be lucky if she’d had more than a couple of hours of sleep. There was also the bigger picture at play when it came to her foolish fantasies about saving Clarke. She knew that this was their chance to do so much more than that. If she acted rashly and rushed in, who knows how many lives could be lost, and the Maunon could ultimately prevail. No….she knew that this was the time to think carefully about how to proceed, because this was the moment that could see them not just rescuing Clarke and whoever else of her people were imprisoned there, but taking down the entire Mountain. No longer would her people be terrorised by their weaponry or worried that their children would be taken for Reapers.

 

“Have you had any information from the Commanders?” Anya asked. Lexa knew that it was proving difficult for the other woman to fully come to terms with what she had learned about the Flame and the complexities of how it worked.

 

“No,” Lexa said, shaking her head. “They are...maddeningly silent.” She pulled her armour off and dropped it on a chest.

 

“Is that normal?”

 

“There is not really a normal nor an abnormal. It is hard to explain how it works. But there have been times in the past when I’ve experienced a similar...absence.” She walked to where the water jug sat and poured two cups. “It seems I am unable to commune with anyone these past days.” She paced back to Anya and passed her the drink.

 

Anya took the offering, eyeing Lexa. “Mochof, Heda.” She drank it down in two long gulps before continuing, softer this time. “I am sure it is just as Nyko says. If the cowards have her drugged then your connection will be blocked. There is likely no need to worry for her safety as she’s clearly worth more to them alive.”   

 

Lexa was silent for a few moments, thinking.

 

“I know she’s alive. I may not be able to reach her through our connection but, I can feel her. Her spirit remains on this plane.”

 

“You can feel her?” Anya asked, arching an eyebrow.

 

Lexa nodded. “Once again it is hard for me to adequately explain. But yes. It’s the feeling I had when the dreams of her began. That she is out there somewhere. That she...exists.”

 

She drank from her cup and placed it down, turning to face Anya again. She clasped her hands behind her back and squared her shoulders, a look of resolve on her face.

 

“Tonight you and I will make the journey to Lincoln’s. I have already informed Indra so I doubt we will be able to slip away without my two bodyguards” - she raised her chin to gesture to the entrance of the tent - “but we need not let everyone know where we are headed. Be ready to leave at nightfall.”

 

“But why, Heda?” Anya questioned, her face confused. “What would going there achieve?”

 

“I am hoping a great deal,” Lexa responded resolutely, looking at Anya intently, “and I need my First there in order to do that.”

 

A determined light sparked in Anya’s eyes and an impish smirk formed at her mouth.

 

Tonight they would ride.

 

* * *

 

Maya had assured Clarke that no one would come as only she had been tasked with the nightshift at the Medical Unit. Still Clarke felt anxious and decided it would be best to stay on the bed while she waited for her to return. That way if anyone did appear, she would simply feign sleep and nothing would seem amiss. But Maya had been gone for longer than Clarke had been expecting and it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to just lie there.

 

_What was taking so long? If the Flame is being kept nearby as she suspected then surely she should have been back by now._

 

A shadow of dread flickered inside her and she tried her best to tamp it down. She knew that the consequences would probably be dire for Maya if she was caught and Clarke was only too well aware of how in some way, that would then be on her. Maya was risking her life, and probably that of her father’s too, to help her, a stranger. But for Clarke it was easy to understand why. Her life on the Ark had shown her that sometimes the right thing to do was to go up against the very people who were leading you down the wrong path. Even if that meant putting yourself and those you loved in danger.

 

She heard footsteps. Stiffening on reflex she willed herself to appear as unconscious.

 

“It’s ok, it’s me,” she heard Maya saying, so she opened her eyes.

 

Clarke sat up. “Did you get it?”

 

The other girl gave a wry smile and raised her hand; a small object was held between her thumb and forefinger.

 

“I was getting worried,” Clarke said relieved, staring at the object.

 

“One of the patients woke up. I had to wait until they fell asleep. A lot of the people here are very loyal to the Wallace family. They wouldn’t hesitate to sound the alarm if they thought I was doing something unauthorised.”

 

She approached Clarke and held out the Flame for her. Clarke took it into her own palm and studied it for a moment. Such an innocuous looking thing. Light as a feather, the clear, hexagonal chip gave away nothing about the power that lay inside of it. Or at least the power that Clarke hoped lay inside. She expected to maybe feel something from it, a hum or some feeling that gave a sense of its magnitude. But it was just a piece of plastic with the only thing of note being the infinity symbol inscribed on one side. She wondered what that meant.

 

“What will you do with it?” Maya asked.

 

Clarke looked up at her. “Keep it from falling back into the wrong hands.” She pulled the IV out of her hand with a wince and then did the same to the stent in her arm.

 

“I could have done that for you, you know” Maya said, a hint of reprimand to her voice.

 

Clarke swung her legs off the bed and placed her feet on the floor, tucking the Flame into her bra. “You’re doing enough. Including hopefully finding me some shoes and showing me how to get the hell out of here.”

 

“We need to get to my father. He’ll know what to do.”  

* * *

 

Ten minutes later and they were making their way along a dimly lit corridor, Clarke decked out in a pair of boots that felt two sizes too big but would do the job.

 

“Won’t we be seen?” she asked in a low voice.

 

“Mostly everyone is asleep at night and there are no cameras in the Medical Unit or on this route to residential. We never have any security issues so there’s no one watching the internal camera feed anyway. As long as we stay away from the guard stations then we should be ok. It’s not too much further.”

 

They entered a stairwell and descended flight upon flight of stairs before exiting at a door marked ‘Level 5’. After a few more twists and turns down another corridor they came to a stop at a grey door that looked much like all the others.

 

“In here” Maya said, swiping a card along a panel to unlock it.

 

They went inside and Clarke immediately understood this to be Maya’s home. Although the space was small, it felt cosy as opposed to cramped. There were human touches everywhere; efforts to make it as comfortable and welcoming as possible, and Clarke wondered how much of it had been down to Maya’s mother when she was still alive. You could feel love here. It reminded her of her own family’s living quarters back on the Ark.

 

“Wait here,” Maya said, before disappearing through a door on the right.

 

Clarke stood in the middle of the living area and looked around her. A photograph on the wall caught her eye. She went over to get a closer look and saw it was of a woman who was undoubtedly Maya’s mother. The resemblance was uncanny. She was beautiful and Clarke felt a mixture of sadness for Maya having lost a parent, and anger that she could have lived if only those in charge were better people.

 

Five minutes went by before Maya stepped out of the other room, with a man following behind her. He was not that much taller than Maya and had a heavy brow and a short grey goatee. His brown hair looked like it had been hastily swept back. His loose fitting clothes were rumpled and Clarke suspected that the white t-shirt and navy pants were what he had been sleeping in.

 

“Clarke, this is my father, Vincent Vie. I’ve tried to tell him as much as I could about who you are.”

 

“Thank you for agreeing to help me Mr Vie. Maya has already done so much.”

 

He eyed her with what she would have described as not the warmest of expressions.

 

“I’ve not exactly been given much choice. Maya’s put herself in a great deal of danger by getting you this far. I can’t do anything now but try to get you out,” he replied, looking between her and his daughter. And then in a slightly friendlier tone, “And call me Vincent.”

 

Clarke nodded. “I don’t want to put either of you in any more danger. I just need a way out.”

 

He sighed and moved to sit at the small table, gesturing for Clarke to join him. Maya took the third chair.

 

“We need to have you out of here before morning. That’s when Maya’s shift finishes and that’s when the others will come to check on things. Right now my priority is my daughter’s safety so we’re going to need to stage something that doesn’t incriminate her.” He turned to Maya. “Is there any reason why you would need to be away from Clarke’s room, sweetheart?”

 

Clarke’s heart ached at the term of endearment. It had been one of the names her own father had called her.

 

Between them they then began to hatch a plan that would involve Vincent taking Clarke to the retrofit routes (“They’re off limits. No cameras, no patrols.”) which then led to a long climb up a ladder, finally exiting out a hatch somewhere up at ground level. Maya had protested at this saying that Clarke was not fit to climb such a height. Vincent had insisted this was the only way and Clarke had assured Maya she would be fine. Although in reality she did feel some trepidation about that part of the plan particularly as, true to Maya’s earlier warnings about the painkillers wearing off, her injuries had definitely started to let their presence be known again. Vincent would then go to the Medical Unit with Maya and stage it so that it looked like Clarke had either locked Maya in the bathroom or possibly overpowered her in a scuffle. They would work out those details when they arrived there, and Maya would leave as much time as she could to allow Clarke to get to the outside before she sounded the alarm.

 

“It’s our best chance at getting all of us out of this alive,” Vincent finished.

 

Clarke noticed how Maya had mentioned nothing to her father about the Flame. She supposed that the less he knew the better.

 

He stood. “Time to get going. Let me just grab my jacket and shoes.”

 

He disappeared into the bedroom.

 

“When you get out, head east and follow the river,” Maya said gently. “The sun should just be rising so use it as your guide.”

 

Clarke nodded. “Thank you, Maya. For everything. I wish there was something I could do to repay you.”

 

Maya smiled at her. “Just live, Clarke. Do all the things I’ve always wished I could do. Ride a horse.”

 

Clarke let out a small laugh. “I’m not sure about that. But I’ll see what I can do.”

 

Vincent appeared in the doorway again. “Ready?”

 

“Ready,” Clarke replied, standing. “And Mr Vie…” - at his disapproving look she quickly corrected herself - “Vincent....I really do want to repay you. Maybe once I’m out I could speak to Le...to the Commander. Try to work out some arrangement where her people donate their blood voluntarily. If they knew there were people here who didn’t support the system, maybe things could be different.”

 

“I appreciate the thought but as long as Cage and his goons are in charge, there won’t be any peace. Now come on. It’s time to get going.”

 

He moved to the door and pulled it open, only to stagger backwards upon being confronted by Cage Wallace and what looked like a small platoon of guards.

 

Clarke gasped. She heard Maya shout, “No!”

 

But the gun in Cage’s hand was already raised and the trigger was pulled. The bullet smashed into Vincent’s chest with such force that he fell onto his back, letting out a quiet ‘puff’ sound that seemed to echo around the room.

 

Clarke looked on in horror as blood immediately pooled all around him, soaking into the concrete and creeping towards the rug. Maya knelt at his side, screaming and pressing her hands to his chest.

 

It felt as though time had slowed as each of his ragged breaths came out, the sound wet and rattling. The men had still not entered the room and Clarke looked now to Cage, his face wearing a cruel, satisfied smirk. Never had she wanted to kill someone like she wanted to kill this monstrous excuse for a human being in that moment. Not even Thelonius Jaha when he had floated her father.

 

She tore her eyes away from him and went to the dying man, kneeling and lending her hands even as she knew it was hopeless.

 

Maya had put her face close to his now and was whispering words that Clarke couldn’t and didn’t want to hear. Her hands were soaked in his blood as she felt the final rise and fall of his chest. Maya rested her forehead on his and her silent tears splashed onto his face.

 

Clarke knelt back on her heels and the slow motion effect ceased with the sound of Cage’s voice.

 

“Oh thank god. I thought that would never end,” he said, stepping inside flanked by four guards.

 

“You fucking bastard,” Clarke spat, the feeling of rage inside her building to a crescendo.

 

“Yes yes, I’m simply awful,” he replied dismissively, which only served to intensify her rage. “Now where is my AI?”

 

Clarke knew he must be talking about the Flame even though the name he used for it was foreign to her.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, levelling her stare at him.

 

He sighed, as if this was all some tedious annoyance to him. “Well you leave me no option then. I can have my men strip search you” - he swung his pistol towards Maya who still kneeled over her father - “or I can just finish off the family here.” He quirked his eyebrow at Clarke. “You decide.”

 

Clarke closed her eyes. She willed herself to keep it together even as she felt precariously close to the edge.

 

Opening her eyes she said, “I have it. I just need to reach for it.”

 

He looked at her expectantly, his gun still trained on Maya. Clarke flicked her gaze to the guards behind him, all their guns raised.

 

She slowly reached into her bra and pulled out the small piece of plastic. She then noticed Cage giving the guards an almost imperceptible signal with the hand not holding the gun and before she could even blink they had rushed forward, grabbed the Flame and flipped her onto her stomach. Her cheek was pressed roughly into the cold ground, her arms and legs pinned, and she felt a knee pushing into her back. Panic rose up inside of her as she struggled in vain to free herself.

 

“Do it,” she heard Cage order.

 

“Wha...no...stop,” she heard herself cry, her breathing feeling laboured with the pressure on top of her.

 

A rough hand pulled her hair away from her neck and she cried out as she felt something slice her, the pain burning and intense. Another cry of agony as she felt something being pushed inside the wound.

 

She could hear Maya sobbing although the sound was becoming distant as Clarke’s breathing became shallower.

 

* * *

 

Lexa and Anya moved their horses at a walking pace, allowing them to rest after a long canter. Lexa would have liked to have galloped the whole way but the route they were following would not allow it, the winding path with its many gnarled roots and trees posing too many dangerous obstacles. Add to this that they were travelling at night and it would just be foolish to end up with a horse or a rider with a broken leg.

 

“I am glad we have her for company tonight,” Anya murmured, looking skyward.   

 

Lexa cast a glance to the full moon that hung brightly overhead, before returning her eyes to the path ahead.

 

“It’s a shame she’s not the only company we have,” continued Anya, nodding her head back to Iona and Conic who rode ten feet or so behind.

 

“Indra insisted,” was Lexa’s only reply.

 

“I know they’re the best at what they do, but do they have to be so _stoic_ all the time. It’s unnerving.”

 

Lexa couldn’t help the splutter of laughter that pushed its way out of her. “This, coming from _you_? Anya I think you will find that from here to the very edges of this continent you are known as the absolute living embodiment of stoicism. That is me speaking as your Heda and as someone who has known you all my life.”

 

Anya scowled as if trying to prove the point. “That may be so but at least I have a sense of humour. Even if it _is_ my own unique take on what that means. Those two seem as though they came out the womb as stony faced warriors.”

 

Lexa smiled and shook her head. “I think it is less their natural demeanours and more the fear of the gods that Indra has put into them with regards to how they should behave around me. Or possibly it’s simply the fear of Indra.”

 

Anya made a hum of agreement. “Perhaps you’re right. There isn’t much that scares me but Indra’s wrath is not something to be taken lightly.”

 

“Which is why she is the best of my Generals.”

 

They rode on in silence for a while until Lexa heard Anya clear her throat.  “Not that I am one to cast aspersions on your intentions for this journey, but forgive me for pointing out that we’re riding to Lincoln’s place. A place which is significantly closer to the Mountain than where we have just been.”

 

Lexa thought about what Anya was inferring. “I don’t intend to stage a rescue plan between the five of us if that’s what you’re asking. But there are other benefits, I hope, of going there. Clarke’s_____”

 

A jolt wracked Lexa’s body and her horse stopped abruptly, clearly startled by his rider’s movements.

 

Her eyes slammed shut and she felt as though warm light flooded through her from the inside out.

 

“Lexa! Are you alright? What is it?” Anya called, worry evident in her tone.

 

She heard the hooves of Iona and Conic’s horses approaching having been alerted by the sudden stop and Anya’s concerned shout.

 

“Heda, what is it?” Iona asked. “Are you hurt?”

 

She opened her eyes as she sucked in a breath and looked at Anya with pupils blown wide.

 

“It’s Clarke. She has taken the other Flame.”

 

The abstract feeling that Lexa had been experiencing until this moment connecting her to Clarke had now exploded into a symphony of thrumming electricity.

 

But she could feel that Clarke was no longer on this plane.

 

She was gone.  

 

* * *

 

Clarke opened her eyes to a blue cloudless sky, the sound of gulls squawking and waves gently crashing reaching her ears.

 

_Wait. What?_

 

She immediately lifted her hand and pressed her fingers to the back of her neck, feeling for the incision there. Her fingers rubbed and searched finding only smooth unblemished skin.

 

“You won’t find anything there, Clarke. The Flame doesn’t exist in this timeline.”

 

She whipped her head around to see a woman exiting the house behind her. She now realised she was sitting on a deck that wrapped around that house. A beach stretched out for miles on either side.

 

The woman walked over and took the chair next to Clarke, raising her sandalled feet up and settling back against the cushion. Clarke stared at her. Somehow she seemed familiar, but at the same time completely new. She had dark hair swept back into a loose ponytail and she had delicate, pretty features; high cheekbones on porcelain skin and full, pink lips. She wore beige pants and a woolen roll-neck cream sweater. Clarke had never seen someone look so _immaculate_ before.  

 

She also realised she was thinking words in her head that she had never used in her life, let alone known the meaning of.

 

“Who are you?” she asked.

 

The woman pulled her gaze from the ocean to look at her, her large, dark eyes shining brightly. “I think you know,” she replied gently.

 

“Becca,” Clarke said, knowing it to be the truth.

 

“Yes. In your world I was known as Bekka Pramheda, the first Commander. But I have always been who I started out as.”

 

“And who was that?”

  
Becca looked at her intently. “Dr Rebecca Griffin. Your great, great-aunt. And the person responsible for ending the world.”

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think! Pretty much living and dying for feedback yo. 
> 
> ALSO: In this verse the magical Latin phrases are not required to activate/deactivate this Flame.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that? Three months you say? Wow, I write at warp speed. Ok, maybe not. But to all those worried about this story not continuing, I can honestly promise you that will not happen. I shall write until there are no words left to write! It may take me a while, but I am excited to get there. I just have a stupidly busy life. It's so rude. Thanks so much to those who are sticking with me. I really hope you enjoy this next instalment. 
> 
> The musical accompaniment for this chapter is [Hex by Mt Wolf](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wyMMYqMb8t0)

>  
> 
> **_I took the stars from my eyes, and then I made a map. And knew that somehow I could find my way back._ **
> 
>  

 

 

“Walk with me,” Becca said, rising from her seat. 

 

Clarke blinked for a moment, trying to clear the fog that felt like it had wrapped its tendrils around her capacity for coherent thought. 

 

She stood, noticing as she did that she felt no discomfort; all of her aches and pains had evaporated. She also noticed that her feet were no longer filthy with mud but were clean and she was wearing her own pair of sandals, similar in style, but not identical to Becca’s. She was in fact wearing a whole new outfit, everything feeling clean and new, yet at the same time unfamiliar and strange. 

 

She looked down at her wrists, rubbing a thumb over one, but found no trace of the deep cuts and bruising she had sustained from the handcuffs back on the Ark. She remembered her father’s watch then and her thoughts flickered briefly to Lincoln’s cave.

 

_ It all feels like another lifetime…. _

 

“Is this a dream?” she asked the other woman, eyes widening slightly as another possibility came to her. “Or is this death? Did I die?”

 

Becca’s expression changed to one of concern and... _ pity? _

 

She shook her head. “Oh no, Clarke. You’re not dead.” Her dark eyes searched Clarke’s own. “Do you feel your pulse?” She nodded to where Clarke still grasped her wrist. 

 

Clarke glanced down, pressing two fingers to her pulse point. “Ye….yes,” she replied, tripping over the word. She took a deep breath and focused on the steady beating of her heart pulling her back from a full-blown panic attack. “A dream then? Something happened when they put the Flame into me. One minute I was there and the next…” She trailed off. 

 

“I know it must be confusing for you. I have to admit, I’m not entirely certain of what’s going on either.”

 

“Well that’s comforting,” Clarke said, somewhat sarcastically. 

 

Becca smiled, and admittedly that  _ was  _ comforting. 

 

“I can tell you this is not a dream, if that helps. Where we are is very much a real place. You are real here.”

 

“Are you?” Clarke asked. 

 

“That question has a more complicated answer,” Becca replied. “Will you walk to the shore with me? I’d like to show you something.”

 

Walking down the steps from the deck, Clarke felt herself almost overwhelmed with the sounds of waves crashing and birds calling overhead, and the strong smell of salt that came to her on the breeze. 

 

And the ocean….what a sight. It stretched out before her like a seemingly limitless giant, it’s deep blue punctuated with white crested peaks. She had seen it as she hurtled to Earth in the Escape Pod, but nothing could have prepared her for the immense power of actually standing physically before it. She realised now just how sterile and removed from nature life on the Ark had been. It was incredible to look out into the vastness of space, but the blue planet that lay beneath was always what had captured her imagination. 

 

On reaching the bottom step, Becca slipped off her sandals. 

 

Gesturing to Clarke’s feet she said, “Trust me, you’ll want to feel this.”

 

Clarke did the same and then stepped off into the soft sand. She looked over at Becca who smiled back at her as she took in the pleasant sensation. 

 

“I think I like the beach,” Clarke said, wriggling her toes. 

 

Becca laughed. “Just wait until you feel the ocean. Come on.”

 

Together they walked down to the water’s edge, the light breeze whipping Clarke’s hair around her face. She watched as Becca put her feet in just at the water’s edge, a small wave reaching her toes before retreating again. Clarke stepped forward too, the feeling of the squishy wet sand delighting her. The wave returned and washed over her up to just above her ankles. The water was cold, but not unpleasantly so. 

 

It felt good to stand there. 

 

She looked out to the horizon and she felt herself begin to cry. 

 

 

* * *

  
  


_ “Tell me about where I came from again, Daddy,” Clarke said, wrapping her small arms around the back of the big man’s neck whilst he sat at his drawing desk.  _

 

_ “Again?” he asked, mock incredulity in his voice, turning his head to look at her. “Are you a fish?” _

 

_ She frowned, confused. “I’m not a fish, silly. I’m a girl.” _

 

_ He turned fully and scooped her small body into his lap. “I thought you might be a fish because your memory is so bad. I’ve told you this story at least a hundred times before,” he teased.  _

 

_ She threw him a serious look. “I have a good memory. I just like to hear the story.” _

 

_ “Well, if you insist,” Jake replied, pretending to sigh but smiling.  _

 

_ This was the little game they liked to play. Teasing each other but enjoying every moment they got to spend in each other’s company. Clarke was the very definition of a daddy’s girl, having inherited many of the man’s traits. Although with every year that passed she was displaying more of her mother’s personality as well, which Jake knew could prove for some difficult clashes in the future between mum and daughter once the teenage years hit. As it was, he adored his only child, and loved nothing more than teaching her what he knew of the old world and trying to equip her with the tools to survive in the new one.  _

 

_ He reached over to a drawer and pulled out a tattered old book entitled ‘Atlas of the World’, faded and dog-eared with use, and set it on down on the desk.   _

 

_ “Page a hundred,” Clarke said.  _

 

_ “It’s one hundred, kiddo,” he corrected. “And good memory. Maybe you don’t have a fish brain after all.” _

 

_ Clarke rolled her eyes, although her father couldn’t see.  _

 

_ He opened the atlas to the requested page and Clarke traced her finger along the outline of the East Coast of the United States.  _

 

_ “Washington DC,” she murmured, her eyes scanning over the words.  _

 

_ “That’s right. That’s where the capital was and that’s where your great-great-grandmother helped to make the laws and run the country.” _

 

_ “And what about the rest of our family? What did they do?” _

 

_ “Well, I don’t have  _ **_all_ ** _ the details but I know we had a college professor - that’s like a teacher - and there was definitely an engineer like me somewhere along the line that worked on some famous bridges. I think there was a fairly well known artist - that must be where you get your talents from. There was a scientist too. She was involved in something to do with the Ark but my father never knew what exactly.” _

 

_ Clarke mulled this over for a few moments, still looking at the map.  _

 

_ She tapped her finger on a place just to the west of DC. “And this is how I got my name?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.  _

 

_ “Yup,” Jake replied. “Clarke County. I wanted you to have a tie to your roots because that’s where a lot of family were.” _

 

_ “What’s roots, Daddy?” _

 

_ “Your roots are where you come from, kiddo. Your family tree, so to speak.” _

 

_ Clarke continued to study the map before landing on another place name just outside of the capital. “Some of the kids tease me and say I have a boy’s name. Like some guy called Superman from old comic books.” She gently stroked the place name. “Couldn’t you have called me something pretty instead like that?” _

 

_ Jake looked to where she was indicating. “Alexandria? Well that  _ **_is_ ** _ pretty. But it just wasn’t the name for you. Both your mother and I knew that Clarke was it. We looked at your cute little face - ” He pinched her cheek and tickled her side and she squealed with laughter, “ - and you were our Clarke. And if any boy tries to make you feel bad about it, you just tell them that you’re SuperWOMAN.” _

 

_ She laughed again at this.  _

 

_ “Do you think we’ll ever get to go back there?” she then asked in a small, wistful voice.  _

 

_ He paused for a moment, tightening his arms around her as they both looked down at the map.  _

 

_ “I don’t know, kiddo. I really don’t know.” _

 

_ After another few moments of silence she turned her face round to his and said so sincerely, “Daddy, I think I know what I’d like to be if we ever get to go back to Earth.” _

 

_ “What’s that, sweetheart?” _

 

_ “A mermaid.” _

 

_ Jake dissolved into guffaws of laughter, delighting in his young daughter’s innocence.  _

 

_ “See?” he said in between the laughter. “You  _ **_are_ ** _ a fish after all!” _

 

_ And now she laughed too. They sat laughing together until their sides hurt and tears streamed down their faces.  _

  
  


* * *

  
  


Clarke walked with Becca along the beach, the soft sand pushing up between her toes a good feeling. 

 

It was strange knowing that the woman beside her was long dead, yet was very much here with her right now. In whatever... _ this _ place was. Her mind couldn’t really compute the two pieces of knowledge, but if she was being honest with herself, she was finding comfort in the familial tie, no matter how tenuous, after being so long without one. 

 

After they had paddled their feet in the ocean for a while and Clarke had allowed tears to flow for reasons she wasn’t entirely sure about, Becca had said there was something further up the beach she wanted to show her. 

 

As they walked round the curve of the coastline, Becca stopped. “There,” she said, pointing. 

 

Clarke squinted, the afternoon sun glinting off of the shiny steel structures up ahead. 

 

“What  _ is _ that?” she asked, although from the rocket she saw she thought she had a fairly good idea. 

 

“The Mid-Atlantic Regional Spaceport, or MARS as it’s commonly known. And those other buildings beyond it make up the NASA Flight Facility. All located on Wallops Island on the Eastern seaboard of the state of Virginia, United States of America.”

 

Clarke’s mind flashed to the old tattered atlas from her dad’s desk drawer. “I remember seeing this place on a map. My dad used to say it was named Wallops because people would come here to practice their right hook.” 

 

“Well I don’t know about that,” Becca said smiling, “but it  _ is _ where I worked when I existed in this timeline.”

 

Turning to her, Clarke said, “You keep saying that; ‘timeline’. If this isn’t a dream then what is it? Is this real?”

 

Becca’s expression turned more solemn. “This is 2049. One hundred years before where you’ve just come from.”

 

Clarke looked between Becca and the spaceport in the distance, struggling to absorb the information. 

 

“Three years before the bombs,” she murmured, swallowing thickly. 

 

Becca nodded. “Yes. And just as I was about to finish building the quantum computer that would eventually go rogue and launch those bombs.”

 

Clarke sucked in a breath, trying to gather her thoughts. “So that’s what happened,” she stated flatly. “You were building some kind of supercomputer for god knows what, and it got _away_ _from you?”_ Her voice rose as she felt the anger flare inside her and she scrubbed her hands through her hair. 

 

Becca did not look away or look shameful. Instead she looked at Clarke with eyes that had seen too much and felt everything as many times as it was possible for someone to feel.

 

“I’ve had a century to blame myself, Clarke. Stuck in this suspended state of animation, trapped in the Flame, with nothing but guilt most of the time for company. But you need to know that my intentions for the work I was doing were the complete opposite of the destruction of humankind. I was making breakthroughs in the field of quantum consciousness, trying to find a way to reverse the seemingly unalterable damage that humanity had wrought on the planet. The code I wrote ended up thinking there were ‘too many people’, and in essence it was right. Almost twelve billion people on this tiny speck in the universe, widespread famine, air pollution, ocean acidification, constant war. And throughout all of that? It was always the poorest and the most vulnerable who suffered the most. I was trying to find a way to make things better.”

 

“Well your rogue code certainly saw to that twelve billion-strong problem,” Clarke shot back bitterly, feeling her stomach roiling with each new piece of information. 

 

“I don’t look to absolve myself,” Becca replied softly. “I never have. And as long as I live on in some form or another, I will never and should never know peace.”

 

It was Clarke who looked away then, feeling the weight of it all settle between them. 

 

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked, her eyes on the sea. 

 

“I didn’t. I believe the Flame did that. And to a larger extent, you did.”

 

Clarke swung her eyes back to Becca. “What?” she asked, incredulous. “That’s impossible. I don’t know anything about it. How could I control where I went to? I didn’t even choose to put that thing in me. Those bastards back at the Mountain did that and I was powerless to stop them. And why have two Flames anyway? Why wasn’t one enough to achieve what you wanted with the Commander legacy? ”

 

Becca looked at her with such intensity that it momentarily made Clarke’s heartbeat stutter. 

 

“A part of me always knew that the potential of the Flame would far exceed my original intention. A good scientist always has a back up. Why would I have made only one?” she asked, keeping that intense gaze on her.  “There must be balance in everything, Clarke, and you are now standing on one side of that scale. The universe often works in dualities and the Flame is no exception. It was always designed to work best when both AI’s were used together in harmony. But I’m starting to think that the power you possess is transcending the need for the tech at all.” 

 

“What power?” Clarke asked, feeling more confused than ever and now so so tired. “I just told you, I didn’t choose to take the second Flame...or the original Flame….gah!” She threw her hands up in the air in frustration and paced a few steps away. 

 

“They held me down, Becca,” she said, rounding on the other woman, the trauma of every event that had occurred since she was pulled from her cell on the Ark catching up to her all at once, causing her chest to constrict and her throat to burn with yet more tears that threatened to force themselves out. “They killed innocent men inside and out of that mountain because of  _ me _ , and god knows what’s happening to Maya. And before that I was locked up by the people who I’m meant to call my own after they  _ executed _ my father….your....I don’t even know...your relative. So where was my power then? I’ve not been in control of anything for longer than I can remember and I’ve never felt so lost or far away from home than I do right now.”

 

She dropped down to the sand, drawing her knees towards her and pressing her face into them. She screwed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry again. 

 

After a few moments she heard Becca sit down beside her. She jumped slightly when she felt a soft touch rub gently on her back. 

 

“I’m sorry this is happening to you. I never could have predicted things would unfold this way. A part of me wishes I had never set the wheels in motion at all, but after so long to contemplate it all, I’ve come to the conclusion that everything would have happened regardless. We are here now, together, because it is exactly where the universe wants us to be.”

 

Clarke raised her head slightly, looking at Becca. “For a scientist you’re not sounding very sciencey right now. You sound like Lexa.”

 

Becca gave her a wry smile. “That’s just it though, it  _ is _ science. Or a more evolved version of it. In this world, in this time - ” She gestured with her free hand to indicate she meant where they currently were, “- thinking on these subjects was always so black and white. Something was either considered hard science or it wasn’t. But the mistake they all made was to not look beyond. That’s what I was trying to do. Think of it this way;  the atoms of our bodies are traceable to stars that manufactured them in their cores and exploded these enriched ingredients across our galaxy, billions of years ago, making us biologically and chemically connected to every other living thing in the world. And atomically connected to all atoms in the universe. Nothing is accidental and I believe our paths are set.”

 

“And my path?” Clarke asked. 

 

“We’re connected by blood, Clarke. And I believe you’ve been sent here because of the connection you also share with Lexa, because of how your blood is connected to  _ hers.  _ I made that Nightblood that runs through her veins. And she was chosen because she’s special, and because that was her fate. I know you may feel powerless but I am telling you, you have more power than you could possibly imagine.”

 

Clarke stared back at her, breathing deeply. 

 

“Tell me what I need to do.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Lexa could feel Anya’s incredulous stare on her even as she kept her own gaze focused on the fire. 

 

They had arrived at Lincoln’s cave some time before, and the three of them sat inside around the flames, Iona and Conic standing guard outside. 

 

“You can’t be serious.”

 

Lexa lifted her eyes at this to look at her old Mentor, her  _ closest  _ confidante _.  _ “Have you ever known me not to be?” she replied softly. 

 

“But it’s suicide, Lexa. It was suicide when we discussed it days ago, and it remains that way now. Nothing has changed.” 

 

“ _ Everything _ has changed, Anya. One way or another that Flame is now in Clarke, and it hasn’t killed her. Which means it’s only a matter of time before Cage takes what he needs from her until there are no longer any barriers to him taking the Flame for himself. I am certain, beyond any reasonable doubt that he will not allow Clarke to live after that. I cannot allow either of those things to happen.”

 

Lexa’s voice had remained low and soft throughout and her eyes locked onto Anya’s, silently pleading for her support.

 

Anya looked back at her for a long moment, before sighing deeply and looking back to the fire.  “What do you think?” she said, and they both knew she was addressing Lincoln. 

 

Lexa looked to him, the flames dancing in his dark eyes. She knew regardless of what had gone on between he and Anya, that Anya would listen to his opinion and respect him for it. She always had. Even if she did not always agree with it. 

 

It struck Lexa of just how long it had been since she had sat like this, simply, in front of a fire, with two old friends. Perhaps she never had. A small part of her wished it could have been under different circumstances where they weren’t strategizing life and death. But the Heda part of her quickly dismissed that frivolous yearning for normalcy. Now was not the time. 

 

Lincoln’s fingers were steepled under his chin, elbows resting on his knees. He looked deep in thought. 

 

He raised his eyes to Anya. “I think that you’re right to be wary of the plan. Your duty to protect your Heda, to protect Leksa, is something you promised a long time ago and you should honour that vow at all costs. But you also swore an oath to protect your people, and if Cage finds a way to rule beyond the confines of that mountain, then Trikru will be the first to die.”

 

“And who is your duty to?” Anya asked, with no edge to her voice. 

 

“You may have banished me, but I am still Trikru,” he replied, his eyes moving between both of them. “My duty will always be to you both, to our people, and now….also to Clarke,” he finished.

 

Lexa felt a swell in her chest and the corner of her mouth ticked up almost imperceptibly. 

 

“Well, you’re no help at all,” Anya grumbled. 

 

At this Lexa did smile, the warmth of the fire finally spreading through her.

 

“Thank you, Lincoln. I will not forget your loyalty. Neither I’m sure, will Clarke,” she said sincerely, trying to convey the gratitude she felt for his presence and support. 

 

He dipped his head in acknowledgement. 

 

Anya prodded the fire rather aggressively with a stick she had picked up from the floor. “Is there  _ any  _ point at all in suggesting that as Commander of the Twelve Clans you should stay behind and allow your devoted warriors to carry out this probably doomed rescue plan?” she asked somewhat pessimistically. 

 

Although the smile had faded from Lexa’s mouth, it remained in her eyes but with now added determination as she addressed the other woman. “I must go, Anya. I  _ have _ to go. As Commander of the Blood, it is my duty. However it ends, it is the will of the Spirit and the stars that I be there.”

 

Anya sighed. “How did I know you would say that.”

 

“Because you know me better than any other.” 

 

“For better or for worse,” Anya muttered begrudgingly, but Lexa knew it was coming from a place of love and loyalty. 

 

Standing, she said, “It’s settled then. At first light we go in.” And then turning to Lincoln, asked, “You think the tunnels will be at their quietest then?”

 

He nodded. “The Reapers tend to move at night and scuttle back to their lair before daybreak. It’s our best chance.”

 

Anya tutted. “I don’t like those chances. Lexa, we have no idea what lies in wait in those tunnels, or what lies beyond. How do we know there will even be a way inside if we make it through?”

 

Pulling her sash over her head like a cloak and moving towards the mouth of the cave, Lexa replied, “That is something I am going to find out. It is time I spoke with Clarke’s Raven.”

 

 

* * *

 

Her already disgruntled old First had not been particularly pleased when Lexa had announced she was going to the Escape Pod, and the only company she required was Iona and Conic. When Anya tried to argue, Lexa had told her -  _ Heda _ had told her, it was not a request.

 

She had two reasons for this. One was that if Anya and Lincoln were going to accompany her into those tunnels and possibly beyond, they needed to resolve at least some of their more recent issues first. Perhaps an hour or so of alone time might accomplish that. 

 

_ On the other hand, it could all go horribly wrong and I’ll come back to Lincoln’s beaten and bloody corpse,  _ she mused, only half jokingly. 

 

The second reason was that she needed some time with her own thoughts. Iona and Conic were of course trailing her, but for the most part she could feel alone enough to allow herself some thinking time. She had informed the two guards that she would be going on foot, and that she expected them to follow her, at a distance, in the same way. They needed their horses to rest after the hard ride here, and besides, it had been a long time since Lexa had been out in her forest,  _ almost _ on her own. Walking on this ground felt like both a homecoming and a pilgrimage. 

 

Pulling her sash tighter around her to ward off the slight chill in the air she looked up and saw that the moon was now lower in the sky. The hour was late. Or early. 

 

_ Still a few hours until dawn, _ she thought. 

 

Knowing she had plenty of time she veered off to the left. There was a place she had to see before she went to the radio. 

 

Clambering over the huge boulders and then pulling herself up and round the side of the cliff, she thought back to how many times she had been in these places as a child. Often with Lincoln. His cave was now far below, it all being part of one larger formation. A formation that stretched from here right across the entire Appalachian range. And over to where she was now looking. 

 

Mount Weather. 

 

A valley stretched out below before the land rose up again. Inside that peak was where the Maunon had made their home for the past hundred years. 

 

She sat on a boulder and stared out across the darkened expanse, trying to send her mind across it to where Clarke was. Except....Clarke wasn’t really there. Her body was of course, but her spirit, the essence of her….that was somewhere else. 

 

_ Where are you?  _ she thought, exhaling a long breath that fogged the night air. 

 

She closed her eyes and willed herself to focus on the rise and fall of her chest. 

 

After a long while with nothing happening other than an increasing frustration building inside of her at the futility of it all, she opened her eyes and spoke softly.

 

“Come out of the shadows. I want to speak with you both.”

 

She had not raised her voice and yet both Iona and Conic slipped from the shadowy places in opposite directions and now stood before her. 

 

“Heda,” Iona said, a question in it. Conic simply bowed forward in greeting. 

 

Iona was a striking looking young woman, all wild reddish afro curls, tall, lithe physique and skin deeply tanned from the sun. She had a spray of freckles across her cheeks that reminded Lexa of Costia. Perhaps it was the hair as well that made her think of her. Costia’s had been dark and she had rarely worn it that way, but Lexa used to love it when she had. 

 

Conic was taller still and made up of pure lean muscle that when coupled with his long sleek black hair and brown skin made him feel more big cat than man. Something about the way he held himself, like he was almost sniffing the air, and how his feline-like eyes were always scanning beyond what others might be able to see.  _ Preternatural _ , Lexa thought. 

 

They were quite the contrasting pair, yet somehow also seemed to blend together in a sort of flawless symmetry. 

 

“I realise I know little of your backstories. Indra informed me of your skills of course. Iona, I hear you are unrivalled with a bow and with the spear too.”

 

“Sha, Heda,” she replied, and Lexa thought she could see a small crack in the serious facade. 

 

“What else?” Lexa asked. 

 

Iona looked back, slightly bewildered. 

 

“What else can you tell me about yourself?”

 

Iona hesitated for a moment. “I can ride any horse, hit a moving target with a slingshot at fifty paces and I’m the best  _ joken _ tracker you’ll ever find.”

 

At this she looked slightly surprised that she had used the expletive. 

 

Lexa tried to hide her smirk. 

 

“Impressive. And what about you, Conic?” she asked. 

 

He had been looking off into the distance, stroking his short beard between thumb and forefinger. He turned more fully towards her. 

 

“He’s not a big talker,” Iona offered. 

 

“I talk when it is called for,” he said, his voice warm and measured, “and I fight in the same way. I am competent with a sword and in all types of hand to hand combat, Heda.”

 

Again Lexa fought the smirk that threatened. The earnestness of this pair. 

 

“I am well aware, warrior. I have seen you in practice though never in battle, and I would say you are far more than competent.” She looked between both of them. “I could not ask for two better protectors at my side.”

 

While Conic’s face remained the same; open and almost serene, Iona looked like she might burst with pride.  

 

“Forgive me for speaking so plainly, Heda, but with the way you handle yourself I would think it would be a rare occasion when you really needed anyone to protect you,” said Iona. 

 

Looking back out towards the mountain, thinking of the person imprisoned within, Lexa replied softly, “Everyone needs protecting at some point. Even me.”

 

After a few moments of silence passed, Conic spoke. 

 

“It seems to me that what they see as their biggest advantage is really their biggest weakness. They might have the firepower but without that mountain, they would have nothing.”

 

Both Lexa and Iona turned to him. He continued to look across the valley as if he had not spoken at all. 

 

Something clicked into place for Lexa then. She rose to her feet. “Perhaps you should share your thoughts more often. Come. We have another stop to make.”

 

 

* * *

 

Raven flopped down into her chair. Her chair that was gradually beginning to feel like it was moulded to her ass. 

 

“I know Clarke’s being held prisoner and all, but right about now I might just swap places with her if given the opportunity.”

 

Wells raised an eyebrow in response as he continued to type. 

 

“Ok, ok. Maybe not,” she huffed, swiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “But I swear to god if I don’t get out of Mecha Station soon I’m going to lose my fucking shit.”

 

Wells stopped and turned in his own chair to face her. “Why don’t you wander over to Farm Station and check on supplies? Stretch your legs a bit and breathe in some of those nice plant emissions. I can hold the fort here.”

 

“I just saw Monty at the blockade. He seemed tense so it’s probably best if we stay out of Farm for now. With his parents on different sides of the wall, well...it’s not easy for him,” she replied, tightening her ponytail. 

 

Wells nodded, his focus drifting off. 

 

“I guess that’s your situation times a thousand,” Raven added gently. 

 

He brought his gaze back to hers. “Right now I’m glad my mom isn’t alive to see what my dad’s doing. It would have broken her heart.”

 

Raven searched his eyes for a moment before responding. “You really are on our side aren’t you?” she asked, cocking her head. 

 

“Is that Bellamy guy still convinced I’m a plant, here to steal all your secrets and sell you out?”

 

Raven smiled. “Something like that. But I told him to back off. You’ve really been helping me. So even if you do end up fucking us over, I think I’ve got my money’s worth out of you.” 

 

There was a playful glint in her eye. Wells had been invaluable since he had turned up at the barricade proclaiming to be on their side. His knowledge of the Ark and of the strategies that his father and the Council were thinking of employing had already helped the Rebels. And the information he had about loved ones trapped on the other side had been appreciated by just about everyone here. 

 

His desire for a peaceful resolution to all of this reminded Raven of Finn. Both young men loathed violence and bloodshed. 

 

News of Finn was scarce. All Wells could tell her was that all prisoners in the Skybox had been in complete lockdown since the Ark had been split. She just hoped he would sit tight and stay safe until they could either fix this or get to him. 

 

Wells smiled back at her, but it was a sad smile. “I just wish I’d done more to stand up to him, and sooner. Before Clarke….”  He trailed off.   

 

She sighed. “Listen buddy, if we all could go back and do the things we wish we’d done…”

 

“But you got her out, Raven,” he said, his eyes solemn. “You saved her life.”

 

She let out a pfft sound. “Well for starters I was only a spoke in the wheel of the ‘Save Clarke’ party bus. I just did what I had to.”

 

“But you did it for love. Because Clarke’s your family. I might never get the chance to make up for what I did to her.” 

 

His eyes were sadder than ever and Raven thought with a slight feeling of horror that he might cry.  

 

“Come on, dude. With what you’ve found out about that Mountain? That can’t  _ fail  _ to help her. We just need to know what to do with the information,” she said before rolling over to where he sat and punching him in the arm. 

 

“Ow!” he cried, rubbing the point of impact. “What was that for?”

 

“Just my own special way of showing affection in an awkward situation,” she responded jovially, pushing off the floor with her foot and returning to her own work station again. 

 

“Right,” he said huffily, still rubbing his arm. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

 

“A mantra to live by, my friend,” she replied absentmindedly, engrossed in her screen once again. 

 

They both fell silent, the only sound the tapping of keys or clicking of a mouse. 

 

After a while Raven stretched her arms over her head and began to rise from her chair. “I’m going to make some coff--” She was cut off by a loud crackling sound filling the space. 

 

Her gaze swivelled to Wells and she held her breath. 

 

And then, a woman's voice came from the radio, distant and tinny yet still projecting a sense of authority  -

 

_ “I am Lexa kom Trikru and I wish to speak with Raven. Do you read me, Raven of the sky?” _

 

Wells’ eyes bugged out of his head and Raven grabbed for the receiver. 

 

“I read you,” she sputtered out. “This is Raven of the….sky.” She felt ridiculous using the term but pushed on. “Is this  _ Commander of the Twelve Clans _ Lexa?”  

 

The answer came back quickly and convincingly.  _ “Yes. And I need to once again ask you for your help. Clarke is now in graver danger than ever, and we need to get her out.” _

 

Wells had rolled himself over beside Raven and when she looked over at him she saw he wore a distressed expression. 

 

“Your army is attacking?” she said into the receiver. 

 

_ “No. They could still deploy the acid fog on us as we approach in large numbers, or launch a missile. And it is too risky to Clarke. A more stealthy approach is necessary.” _

 

Raven shared a look of understanding with Wells. 

 

“We might have something that could help you with that.”

 

_ “I had hoped you would say that. Please accept my gratitude for all that you’ve done, Raven.” _

 

Raven cleared her throat a bit before answering, for some reason feeling a combination of bashfulness, and oddly, as it had just appeared with no warning, mild agitation. 

 

“I’m just here for Clarke, Commander. And it’s not just me. My partner in crime here, Wells, is the one who unlocked this particular golden nugget.”

 

There was silence on the other end for a few moments and Raven thought that perhaps her way with words had possibly confounded the Commander. 

 

_ “My gratitude also extends to this partner, and anyone else who has put themselves in harm's way for Clarke.” _

 

She felt the agitation lessen slightly. 

 

_ “I need you to get us inside. Anya said you told her you had maps for the Mountain.” _

 

Raven smirked over at Wells briefly, who had started to look slightly calmer.

 

“Oh we can do you one better than that. Not only do we have floor plans and schematics, we have every piece of architectural and construction document ever made for that place. And we’re about ten steps away from hacking into their internal systems.”

 

A pause. 

 

_ “When you say internal systems….would that mean you could take control of, for instance, their security system and their….ventilation system?” _

 

Raven frowned, thinking for a moment about what Lexa was asking. 

 

“You mean their air?”

 

_ “Yes.” _

 

The word, and its implication hung in the air for a few moments. 

 

“In theory, yes,” Raven finally replied. “But for what purpose?” She glanced at Wells again who was back to frowning and now rubbing at the back of his head. “I’m not sure if we’re up for some casual genocide, even for Clarke.”

 

_ “There will be no genocide,” Lexa replied quickly, her voice clipped. “We just need them to know that we hold an advantage. Without it there is nothing stopping them from wiping out MY people. And that includes Clarke.” _

 

Wells looked at her and shrugged. She could read in his eyes that he thought they would be able to do it. 

 

Immediately he propelled himself back to his station and eyes fixed on the screen, had begun tapping frantically at his keyboard. 

 

She lifted the receiver to her mouth again. “Ok. Threats are something we can be on board with. Let’s talk about what needs to happen.”

 

She swallowed thickly. Shit was really getting real. 

 

 

* * *

 

“I thought you might like to see this.”

 

Lexa turned at the sound of Lincoln’s voice. He leaned against the cave wall, casting a long shadow above him in the firelight. 

 

She had been sitting at the fire after returning from the Escape Pod, gazing into the flames and trying to still her mind in preparation for what was to come. Anya had disappeared sometime before, muttering something that Lexa hadn’t caught.

 

He held out what looked like a notebook. 

 

Taking it she frowned as she looked at its plain cover. 

 

“It’s Clarke’s,” he said simply. 

 

She ran a thumb over it and looked back to him. 

 

“And this,” he said, stepping forward and pressing something into her other palm. 

 

She looked down at the object. 

 

“This is her watch?” Her voice cracked slightly and she swallowed before clenching her jaw. 

 

“I don’t know. But it seemed like it was important to her,” he replied. “I think she would want it back.” 

 

With that he walked out of the cave leaving Lexa alone. 

 

She looked down at the watch again, turning it over in her hand and studying it. Watches were not something that anyone on Earth any longer wore, batteries of course degrading a long many years before. But Lexa knew what they were. There had been a few in the artifacts room in Polis Tower, their once ticking hands long since frozen in time. Lexa wondered if Clarke had worn the timepiece in her day to day life up in the sky. It seemed  _ bulky  _ for Clarke’s wrist. It was then that the small symbol inscribed on the back caught her eye. 

 

It was a creature with the body, legs and tail of a lion, and the head and wings of an eagle. It rose up, its talons reaching out as if in defence of something. Or perhaps attack. 

 

_ The king of all creatures,  _ she thought. _ The griffin.  _

 

She knew that the griffin was thought to be especially powerful and majestic. Scanning her memory she remembered that they were known for guarding treasure and priceless possessions. In antiquity they had been  a  symbol of  divine power a nd a guardian of the divine. 

 

It didn’t feel right to put the watch on, but she felt like it was important that she take it for Clarke. So she tucked it into an inside pocket at the front of her snugly fitting jacket, which lay under a light piece of body armour. She had forgone her Heda sash and pauldron, preferring to be dressed in a more streamlined and practical outfit for entering the Mountain. 

 

Turning her attention to the notebook she opened it to find that it was actually a sketchbook. On the first page there was a beautiful drawing of the forest, seemingly of the view right outside of Lincoln’s cave. Lexa drank in the detail of the lines and shading and marvelled at how Clarke had achieved this in what must have been very little time. 

 

Turning the page her eyes fell on two portraits. One was clearly Lincoln, the likeness unmistakable. The other was of a young girl, perhaps an older teenager. She had long hair and intense eyes. Lexa wondered who she was. 

 

When she turned the page again she felt her breath catch. On the page before her she saw herself. In a scene that she had lived barely more than ten days before. There she stood on the balcony of her Tower,  watching as Clarke fell from the sky. 

 

Despite now knowing how strong their connection was, Lexa was nevertheless stunned at what she was looking at. 

 

But before she could think on it any further, Anya was standing before her, her angular face darkened by the war paint that Lexa had mirrored on her own eyes and cheeks. 

 

“Time to go.”  

 

She nodded and tucking the book into a gap in the seat, she stood and they walked outside where they found the others waiting. The sky was starting to show signs of dawn breaking, and the forest was coming to life with birds singing out their early morning calls. 

 

Lexa looked to her four loyal companions, the Heda in her shining out with every fiber of her being. Each of their eyes sparkled back at her, reverence and adoration there. 

 

She felt a buzzing sensation within herself, like she was standing on the edge of a precipice. 

 

She drew herself up and as was often the case when it came to the Commander, appeared taller than she really was.

 

Her voice was low yet still thunderously powerful, and all in the group felt their heartbeats quicken in anticipation. 

 

“It is long past time that we made this land safer for all of our people. For too long we have been terrorised in our own home. I do not know what will happen once we are inside that place, but I know that my path is leading me there.” She looked to the latest recruits. “Iona, Conic. I wish you to escort us to the tunnels but I cannot ask you to continue any further. Not only is the risk too great, I also need someone to get word back to Indra should anything happen to us.”

 

“But Heda__” Iona objected.

 

Lexa held up a hand and the woman fell silent. 

 

“It is the way it must be,” she continued. “You do me a great service to keep us safe up until the point of entry. But it is not the will of the Spirit for you to join us inside.”

 

Anya smirked almost gleefully. “It is  _ definitely _ the will of the Spirit to let me get inside that Mountain and kill some of those nomonjokas.”

 

Lexa allowed herself a small smile at this in return. 

 

Narrowing her eyes slightly at the pink sky that was now creeping up over the horizon, she turned back to them and said:

 

“Let us go now and end this.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback as always is the lifeforce which waters my very soul.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincere apologies for being an utter shambles of an updater. Moving house, Niylah's Nik Naks @ ClexaCon, life and the hustle blah blah. Hopefully some of you are still with me despite the Ice Age occurring in between chapters. Do know though - I love writing this story and I'm on a mission to complete it. Thanks to Anna, Nachos & Mopey for your feedback, you bunch of beauties. 
> 
> Fair warning - things are about to go off, and there's some violence coming up. 
> 
> Here's the song to go with the words - [Hurts Like Hell by Fleurie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pUlX8ltm_JU)

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **_It matters that you don't just give up_ **

 

 

Lexa and the others made quick work of the trek to the east side of Mount Weather. They went on foot in order to stay as concealed as possible, their stealthy footfalls barely registering amongst the slowly emerging cacophony of pre-dawn sounds.

 

Lincoln led the way, his knowledge of this part of the territory being the best of the group. Iona and Conic mostly stayed in the rear and frequently disappeared altogether, fanning out in wide arcs to make sure the surrounding area was safe. Anya stuck to Lexa’s side to the point that Lexa had to growl at her in order that she have more than a few feet of space to breathe.

 

“Fine,” Anya muttered, “but once we get in there I’m not stepping even an arm’s length from you.”

 

They were now all ducked low behind a thick tangle of bushes, and Lincoln was busy getting a flame going so they would be able to see once they were in the dark interior. They watched the place where he had pointed to as being the concealed entrance to the tunnels.

 

It looked like nothing really. Merely a slight gap in the face of the rock, and even then most of it was obscured by undergrowth. But looking at it made Lexa feel uneasy. There was a feeling that emanated from that place; something dark and sinister, as if the soil which they crouched on was tainted by death and horror. She took a deep, steadying breath, trying to shake the feeling of foreboding that had descended on her.

 

“What are the chances that they have one of their eyes on that entrance?” Anya asked in hushed tones.

 

Lexa shook her head. “Raven has had enough time to take full control of their systems by now, so if any of their remaining cameras had still been functioning, they shouldn’t be anymore.”

 

Anya gave her a doubtful look. “And you trust her? We have no way of knowing for certain what she’s been able to do. It’s a big leap of faith.”

 

Lexa twisted her body to look at her Mentor more fully. “It is, but it is one we must take. I won’t however ask you to accompany me if you feel the risk is too great. Lincoln and I will go alone.”

 

Anya made a scoffing sound. “Over my dead body.”

 

Lexa’s eyes gleamed slightly in response. She had known as much.

 

“I think we should go now, Heda,” said Lincoln quietly, looking towards the entrance with a grave expression.

 

Lexa nodded and turned to Conic and Iona. “You’re comfortable with the plan?” she asked.

 

“Sha, Heda,” Iona replied, looking entirely _uncomfortable_. Conic simply nodded, calm and serene as ever.

 

“Wait here in case the Reapers force us back. If we don’t return soon then go to the river. We’ll meet you there if we make it out. If we’re not there by nightfall, don’t wait. Go to Indra. She will know what to do.”

 

Iona swallowed thickly, but bowed her head and said, “Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim.”

 

“We shall,” Lexa replied, placing a hand on the other girl’s strong shoulder, before turning back to the direction of the tunnels and nodding to Anya and Lincoln to indicate her readiness.

 

“Kom war,” she heard Anya whisper under her breath, as they began to make their way crouching from bush to boulder until they had their backs up against the rock face.

 

“Have no mercy with the Reapers,” Lincoln said lowly, pulling the torch from his jacket and touching the smoking kindling to it so it erupted in a bright flame. “They are no longer the people they once were and there can be no room for hesitation.”

 

Lexa was not scared to face them but she was melancholy at the prospect of having to kill those who had once been her kinfolk. But when she thought about who had inflicted this abomination of nature upon them, she knew that she would be able to turn that bitterness into rage against the Maunon.

 

As they slipped into the tunnel they were faced immediately with an almost impenetrable darkness. Without Lincoln’s torch they would not have been able to see their hands in front of their faces. As it was, the flame cast ghastly shadows against the walls, flickering and dancing in their peripheral vision but only lighting up the immediate vicinity around them. With no way of knowing what was ahead, their only choice was to keep moving forward at a cautious pace.

 

Lexa had her sword drawn in front of her, and she held a small dagger in her fist at her side. Anya held two short swords, whilst Lincoln had his heavy hatchet at his side with his other arm occupied with the torch.

 

The air was thick with something foul-smelling that made Lexa want to gag. But she did not for fear of making any noise. It smelled like rot and decay and something primal. She had been in animal lairs before but this was nothing like that; it was death and terror and something unnatural.

 

She forced her feet to keep moving, silently stepping further and further into the dark depths.

 

As they turned a corner Lincoln stopped abruptly and Lexa squinted her eyes to try to see what had caused it. And there she saw them; ragged lumps lying on the ground. Sleeping Reapers. One solitary torch was alight and stuck in the wall, casting ominous shadows across the scene.

 

Lincoln signalled for them to carry on around the bodies. They moved at what felt like a glacial pace, picking their way across the dirt floor, every step causing Lexa’s heart to hammer in her chest so loudly that she thought surely the others could hear it.

 

Just as they had cleared the group, of which Lexa had counted around twenty, a loud grating of metal filled the space causing Lincoln to spin around to try to locate the sound. A shaft of light appeared high above them then where Lexa could just make out some sort of metal chute. Glancing to the Reapers she saw some of them stirring and grabbed Anya and Lincoln and shoved them behind what appeared to be an old mine trolley. Lincoln moved to extinguish their flame but Lexa stayed his hand shaking her head. If they lost their only light source now, who knows how they would find their way again.

 

Then, a loud thud followed by a groan.

 

Lexa edged close to the side of the trolley to try to see what was going on.

 

A few of the Reapers had gotten up from the ground and were making their way over to another mine trolley, which Lexa could now see the metal chute was above. One of them reached in and yanked out a person, as if they were no more than a ragdoll. Lexa heard another groan as the body thumped onto the hard ground and the Reaper began dragging them by the arm.

 

As more of the Reapers began to wake up and move, Lexa quickly pulled herself back into a hidden position again.

 

She leaned her back up against the trolley and closed her eyes.

 

“What is it?” Anya asked in a whisper.

 

She opened her eyes and looked into their concerned faces.

 

“That carefully orchestrated plan to go undetected through the tunnels? We may have to revise that.”

 

“Why? What are they doing?” Anya asked, her sharp eyes piercing in the low light.

 

Lexa grimaced, the thought of what had been going on in here making her feel ill.

 

“I think they’re about to eat someone.”

 

 

* * *

 

Grinding bone and severed limbs, decaying flesh and rotten breath too close to her face, and blood spurting and running in rivulets all around them.

 

They hacked and slashed and punched and kicked at the Reapers, who at the first sight of them had descended into what could only be described as a blood-thirsty frenzy. They had managed to easily dispatch five before any of the others realised what was happening, but now found themselves shoulder to shoulder, backs faced into a triangle shape of defence.

 

Lexa saw Anya in her peripheral vision bring her two short swords in a brutal arc towards each other, neatly decapitating the Reaper who had been swinging a mace. Lexa was dodging her own set of three or four attackers, looking for an opening. She grunted, launching herself forwards and away from the safety of the triangle, having no choice as she was becoming increasingly penned in. She could almost feel Anya’s glare of disapproval.

 

She managed to drive her dagger into the neck of one, causing his reddened eyes to widen in shock. She thought she saw recognition there. Whether of herself or of who he had once been she wasn’t sure, but it rattled her and her moment’s hesitation had her being thrown back on the ground with two more Reapers rounding on her. She quickly flipped into a crouching position and sliced her sword into one’s leg, causing him to howl in agony, then at lightning speed she stood and drove the blade into the heart of the other. Pivoting, she grabbed the fallen reaper with the now spurting leg injury by the hair and quickly slit his throat.

 

No more room for hesitation. She turned to locate Anya and Lincoln again and was met with a punch to the face so forceful that she felt her brain rattle in her skull. Stumbling backwards and seeing nothing but blackness for a brief moment, she managed to keep her footing and ducked just in time to see a club swinging for her head. She saw her opening and landed a powerful kick to the reaper’s groin, but aside from a brief look that passed across his blood covered, angry face, he did not appear affected.

 

But then he let out a scream of anger so feral that Lexa had to stop herself from stepping backwards, and he began swinging the club. She put her sword up to deflect and it skittered away as soon as it connected with the heavy weapon.

 

Her hand rang with the impact. In her other hand she still grasped her dagger but she knew there was little chance of being able to get close enough without taking a potentially lethal blow. As he pressed forward again she thought quickly about all the lessons Anya had drummed into her as a child, when she was so tiny that her only options to beat an opponent were to use her ingenuity. Or whatever she had to hand…

 

As he swung the club at her head again she ducked and side-stepped, scooping up a pile of dust and dirt and things she didn’t want to think about. She flung the handful into his face and he screwed his eyes up, bending at the waist as his hand scrubbed and he roared in frustration. It gave her the moment she needed and she stepped forward and plunged her dagger into the base of his skull. He sank to his knees and fell to the ground dead.

 

“Lexa!”

 

She whipped around and saw her sword flying through the air to her, launched by Anya.

 

She caught it easily and sent a small nod and a cocky smile to her Mentor, who smiled back wolfishly in return. And just as quickly she saw her take down a huge Reaper, almost gutting him from navel to neck.

 

Lexa leapt back into the fray, the adrenaline coursing through her blood causing a battle cry to rip from her throat. She ran to where Lincoln was holding off two attackers and jumped at one of them from behind with a kick, landing in a heap on top of the fetid once-human. Her sword had already done the work for her as he lay still beneath her. She got to her feet in time to see Lincoln lodge his hatchet into the other’s head.

 

“About time you two caught up,” Anya said from her position about twenty feet away. “I was beginning to get embarrassed for you.”

 

Lexa shook her head and surveyed the gruesome scene around them. The only sound now in the tunnels was of their laboured breathing. The fight had been brutal and exhausting and Lexa didn’t need a mirror to know that she was covered head to toe in as much blood and gore as her companions. She felt saturated with it. Anya managed to look positively feral yet also entirely collected all at once.

 

She swiped at her forehead with the back of her hand and slotted her dagger back into its sheath at her waist.  

 

“Is everyone alright?” she asked, doing her own mental scan of her body. She ached in many places but nothing that wouldn’t heal in a few days.

 

“Yes. And you?” Lincoln replied, walking to her and giving her the once over with his caring eyes. “That was a heavyweight punch you took. I tried to get to you.”

 

She placed a hand on his arm. “I’m fine. We were all just trying to stay alive. You fought more than well.”

 

“Not as well as some of us,” Anya chipped in. “I definitely had the highest tally there.”

 

“Anya,” Lexa scolded. “Your boasting over the deaths of those who may have once been our people is not becoming.”

 

“I need to get _something_ out of __”

 

Lexa held her hand up in silent reproach as she heard a small noise. She made her way over to the figure that was now crouched in the shadows at the side of the tunnel.

 

It was a young boy, probably no more than thirteen and so emaciated that Lexa’s initial thought was that he would have barely been meal enough for _one_ of the cannibalistic Reapers nevermind the horde they had just extinguished.

 

He looked up at her, shaking and terrified, the only scrap of clothing on him a filthy pair of underwear. Lexa felt sick to her stomach. Just a _child_.

 

“You’re safe now,” she said, crouching to his level.

 

He stared back at her with dark, sunken eyes.

 

“You’re the Commander.” His voice was thin and scratchy.

 

“Yes.”

 

“They said you would try to come.”

 

“Who did?”

 

He glanced upwards briefly, his face somehow even more solemn. “Them.”

 

It was if as he could no longer utter the word ‘Maunon’. Like saying it would summon the monsters back. Lexa ground her jaw, her breath still coming quick after the fight.

 

Then Lincoln was there with his undershirt, pulling it over the boy’s head and helping him to his feet. He passed him a torch from the wall.

 

Pointing to where they had come from he said, “Walk that way. You’ll see daylight soon enough. Just beyond the entrance you’ll find two of Heda’s warriors. Tell them we sent you and they will keep you safe.”

 

Lexa looked to Anya with a concerned expression. Knowing exactly what she was thinking, Anya said firmly, “No, we stick together. It’s the three of us or none of us. The boy will be fine. The Reapers are dead and Iona and Conic are waiting right outside.”

 

Lexa let out a rough breath and nodded, unhappy but knowing it was the only way.

 

As the boy set off, he turned to look back at them, his tiny frame swamped by Lincoln’s shirt.

 

“Don’t let anyone else die in here. Save them, Heda.”

 

Lexa watched him shuffle away into the darkness, and she thought of how she should have tried harder to end the catalogue of horrors that had been reigned down upon her people for so long.  

 

Guilt and fury twisted in her gut like a knife.

 

 

 

* * *

 

They now stood before a set of steel doors that they had found a little further down the tunnel. There was a dim electric light here so Lincoln extinguished the torch.

 

“If that still works then they know we’re coming,” Anya said, nodding up at the camera positioned above the doors. A small, red light flashed there too.

 

Lexa glanced up at it. “It won’t be. Raven _”

 

“_is a magical space-witch who has the solution to everything,” Anya scoffed.

 

Lexa was about to reproach her when a strange ringing sound started, making them all startle and raise their weapons.

 

Scanning around for what was causing the ringing, another flashing light caught Lexa’s eye. This one was attached to something on the wall.

 

She walked over to it and stared. She knew what this was.

 

 _A telephone_ , she thought. She had read about them often enough in books, and like the radio in the Escape Pod, she knew their purpose was as a tool of communication.  

 

Quickly she thought about what to do. If indeed the Maunon had seen them on the camera then there was no point in pretending they weren’t there. She would answer it and see what they had to say for themselves.

 

Lifting the receiver and bringing it to her ear, she turned to see Anya and Lincoln’s confused faces.

 

She smiled broadly at them. “It’s the magical space-witch.”

 

* * *

 

 

“She can _see_ us?” Anya asked, incredulous.

 

Lexa pointed to the camera and its flashing red light. Anya looked warily upwards.

 

Raven had been telling her about how she and Wells had managed to get into the Mountain’s systems, spilling out foreign technical terms into Lexa’s ear at such a rate that it made her head spin.

 

They had wrested control of the remaining working cameras both on the outside and the inside, and had seen Lexa, Anya and Lincoln approach the door. Apparently it had then been easy to patch a call to the exact telephone that was located there. Something about _‘flimsy security’_ and _‘the stupid fuckers not expecting to be hacked from space’_.

 

Lexa interrupted her then. “Raven. There are just two things I need to know now.” She felt her chest tighten. “Can you get us through those doors….and can you lead us to Clarke?”

 

 _“Yes,”_ came the sure reply. _“Yes to getting you through that door at least. That’s the easy part. We can override any part of that facility now we’re in. Opening doors, using their cameras….hell, Wells even thinks he can shut down their missiles.”_

 

Lexa felt a huge surge of relief at hearing this. Could the Mountain’s hold over them really nearly be over? And yet, that relief was short lived when she realised she was being short sighted.

 

“And leading us to Clarke?”

 

 _“That’s the part that I can’t see a good solution to right now,”_ Raven replied, her voice now sounding beleaguered. _“For starters I don’t know for sure where they’re holding her, although after scanning the camera feeds I have a strong suspicion. But even if you could somehow make it there undetected - which I highly doubt seeing as I’m looking at you right now and you look like a pack of deranged wolves - if I’m right about where Clarke’s being held, it’s currently guarded by at least two guys packing some pretty serious weaponry. It’s close quarters down there, Commander. You wouldn’t stand a chance against their bullets.”_

 

Lexa closed her eyes briefly, aware of Anya and Lincoln waiting for her to direct their next move.

 

She swallowed thickly, her next words feeling stuck in her throat. “What about their air?”

 

There was silence on the line for a moment.

 

 _“What about it?”_ the other girl finally questioned, although it sounded as if she knew exactly what was being asked.

 

“Do you have control of it?”

 

_“Yes. We have everything. But, Lexa_”_

 

“We just need to threaten them. Show that we’re in control and that they need to listen to _us_ now. It’s the only way we can get Clarke and the others out without bloodshed.”

 

_“Others? Who else are we rescuing today?”_

 

“An unknown number of my people who have been kept prisoner and harvested for their blood, only to be tossed to crazed cannibals when they are no longer of use.”

 

Raven exhaled loudly. _“Fuuuuuck. Well there goes my morality check about endangering the lives of the kids in there. These sick bastards need taken down.”_

 

“They do,” Lexa agreed, “but the children are blameless and are not to be harmed. We must get those in charge to place them all in a secure zone. One parent only may accompany them. The remaining people must go to a separate level, away from the children and away from Clarke.”

 

At this, Anya interjected. “Heda, we did not come this far to allow Cage Wallace and the rest of the _baga_ to go free. We must avenge our people. Jus drein jus daun.” Pure, unchecked ferocity was coming off the other woman in waves as she stood there, eyes glinting, blood smeared across her face.

 

Lexa’s brain was working furiously to try to predict all the possible eventualities of what they were about to begin. There were so many variables that it was almost impossible to be able to make a solid plan until they were inside and things were unfolding. They had Raven on their side, but even still, they were hugely outnumbered and outgunned.  And as much as her logical side was insisting that they leave with Clarke and the other hostages and avoid bloodshed - the Commander in her, the _Trikru_ in her, was screaming out for revenge against those who had harmed them for so long. Anya was right, they _were_ their enemy, but...

 

“I don’t see a way, Anya,” she said, her words tinged with some regret. “They best us in numbers and in weaponry, and the chance of fatalities to either the children or to those on our side is just too great. Our best chance is to threaten them with the air from outside, forcing them away from us and allowing us to leave with everyone unscathed.”

 

Anya shook her head, looking furious.

 

Lexa turned back to the phone again. “Raven, will this hold you have over their systems persist beyond today?”

 

 _“Absolutely,”_ the other girl replied confidently. _“Effectively they won’t be able to do anything without our say-so.”_

 

“Good,” Lexa said, “because if we get out of here alive, this won’t be the end.” She turned to Anya again, directing her words at her. “I can promise you that.”

 

“ _Roger that. I’m going to get off this line now so I can put the next phase of the plan into motion. Sit tight, Commander. I’ll call again when I’ve made contact with these mouth-breathers.”_

 

Lexa felt a bead of sweat run down her back and her jaw tightened even harder.

 

And so, they would wait.

 

 

* * *

 

The wait turned out to be excruciating. With nothing to do to pass the time, Lexa paced, Anya silently but murderously spun and flicked her short-swords, and poor Lincoln looked between them anxiously. Even his usual calm demeanour could not break the palpably thick tension.

 

After what felt like an age, the phone rang again.

 

Lexa strode to it in three long steps and snatched it up.

 

“Raven. What took so long?”

 

_“Funnily enough, getting a maniac like Cage Wallace to do some random girl’s bidding is not the easiest of tasks, Commander,” she replied, clearly unimpressed._

 

“I’m sorry,” Lexa said, sighing, feeling a little bit more of her energy ebb away from her. “I only meant did you come up against much resistance?”

 

_“You can say that again. A boatload. I had to start a manual shutdown of their ventilation systems to show them we’re serious.”_

 

“You didn’t follow through, did you?”

 

_“Fuck no. I stopped it once Cage realised there was nothing they could do to get round it. It was getting close though. I think without some of his lackeys intervening he’d have let it run down to the wire. My take on that guy? Whack-job.”_

 

“Where is everyone now?” Lexa asked, glancing to Anya and Lincoln.

 

_“As requested, kids with one parent each in the Level 6 residences. Cage and the rest are on Level 5. Wells locked the exit doors to the stairways and we watched everyone going in.”_

 

She nodded, mostly to herself. “And Clarke and the other prisoners?”

 

_“Level 3, Quarantine and the Medical Unit. So they claim. We still haven’t laid eyes on any of them though as there are no cameras inside those rooms. But that’s where you should head. You’ll still be a full two levels above the artillery so it’s about as safe as it’s going to get. We’ve shut the elevators off as an added measure of security, so once you’re through that door, head for the stairwell and keep going down until you hit 3.”_

 

Lexa gripped the phone hard in her hand and swallowed. “You’ve done exceptionally well, Raven. If there was a way to repay you__”

 

 _“Just get Clarke out,”_ she responded firmly, before adding. _“And don’t die.”_  

 

Lexa wondered just how easy either of those requests would be.

 

 

* * *

 

Moments later they were through the heavy door, Lexa quietly explaining the plan as they moved otherwise silently along a brightly lit corridor. The abrupt change from the dank tunnel to this was jarring.

 

Anya’s face was sour, but she said nothing in response, merely listened as she walked beside Lexa.

 

It was Lincoln who spoke up first. “How do we know they won’t come for us regardless of the threats?”

 

Lexa glanced back at him, keeping up their pace. “We don’t, but if they do, Raven will see.” She nodded to a camera above.

 

In the silence that followed it was obvious what everyone was thinking. Raven may well see them coming, but would she be willing to do what it would take to stop them.

 

The thought had Lexa feeling conflicted. Her own people would always be the priority, and she would do whatever was necessary to save them. But she knew that wiping out an entire community of people, no matter how deserving some of them were of death, would be a heavy burden on her soul.

 

She sincerely hoped it would not come to that.

 

Right now she had to focus, despite the feeling of almost crushing claustrophobia that had descended when they had entered the Mountain. The air felt as recycled as she knew it to be, and the artificial light and concrete floors added to the uncomfortable prickle at the back of her neck. They were all decidedly not in their comfort zone, but they would have to try to adapt to these new surroundings if they wanted to keep a step ahead of the enemy.   

 

Noticing a sign for the stairwell, Lexa pushed open the door and they started to descend.

 

She tried to focus on the fact that each step was taking her closer to Clarke. And she pushed away the thought that they were descending deep into the belly of the beast.

 

 

* * *

 

Down and down they went, moving quickly but carefully. The concrete stairs felt unfamiliar under their feet, but their balance remained steady; a lifetime amongst nature responsible for that. They passed a large faded ‘1’, then a ‘2’, before finally stopping at the door showing Level 3.

 

Just as Lexa was about to push the door open, Anya’s hand gripped her arm, stopping her.

 

She looked to her, a question in her eyes.

 

“Leksa,” Anya said, then hesitated. The combination of her name being spoken like that and the hesitation had Lexa tamping down an uneasy feeling that had gradually been unfurling deep in her gut. She waited for her Mentor to speak again.

 

“You know I am not much one for _feelings_ or the ways of the Spirits, but…” She trailed off, again uncharacteristically.

 

“But?”

 

“I do listen to my instincts, and right now they’re telling me that this is a bad idea. Something bigger lurks here. It is as if we are standing on the edge of an abyss, and it’s waiting to snatch you away. Not us,” - she glanced to Lincoln, then back again to Lexa - “ _you_. We should return with our gonakru and end this properly. Save the prisoners and decide what to do with those who have set out to destroy us. If Raven controls the Mountain now then there is nothing to stop us returning safely.”

 

Lexa tried to keep the worry she felt from her eyes when she responded, and instead focused on speaking aloud the words she should have said a long time ago. “I am grateful for your counsel, dear _seingeda_. It has always been precious to me over all these years along with your friendship.”

 

At this, Anya gave her a confused look. She pressed on.  

 

“I feel it too, that something larger is present. And that is why I must continue. If we leave now, Clarke dies, and the Flame she carries will be taken by Cage and corrupted. I cannot imagine the danger our world - what’s left of our world, would then face. I must save Clarke to save our kru. To save _all_ the kru. That instinct you feel? It is the same as the Spirit speaking to me. I have to do this.”

 

Anya searched her eyes for a moment, before nodding briefly in acquiescence, seemingly understanding that there would be no stopping the forward motion that had started long before this moment.

 

Lexa turned back to Lincoln, who gave her his own nod.

 

She sent up a message of thanks to the universe for allowing her these two great warriors and friends to be at her side.

 

The watch resting in her breast pocket felt heavy against her heart.

 

 

 

* * *

 

“Heda, in here,” Lincoln called.

 

They had been trying the first set of rooms they had come to, with no luck.

 

Lincoln stood holding another door, waiting for Lexa and Anya to join him.

 

What they saw when they entered the room caused them both to gasp in horror.

 

There were rows and rows of tiny cages against the walls, stacked three stories high. A great deal of these cages contained a person; crouched, filthy, emaciated, dying. From a quick glance Lexa estimated that there were perhaps twenty five people here.

 

They looked how the boy in the tunnel had looked. Some of them didn’t, or maybe couldn’t, open their eyes to look at who had entered the room. But a few registered them and began to call out, desperation in their voices as if they thought if they didn’t shout loudly enough their potential saviours would disappear into the ether again.

 

The sound clawed at Lexa’s insides.

 

_How could she have let this happen?_

 

She walked to a cage nearest the front that held a young woman who was maybe only a little older than Lexa. Her long dark hair fell in curtains around her face and her eyes looked sunken and lifeless. Like the others she wore only tattered underwear and a rag that barely covered her breasts. Her arms were littered with bruises and needle marks.

 

Lexa grasped the bars of the cage, the metal groaning with the strength of her grip.

 

“He...Heda?” The woman’s voice cracked.

 

Lexa only nodded, not trusting her own voice.

 

Instead she reached her hand through a gap and placed a palm on her cheek. The woman looked up at her as if she couldn’t believe she was actually there, gently covering Lexa’s hand with her own as if to make sure she was real.

 

Lexa swallowed thickly. “We’re going to get you out of here,” she said, thankful that her voice did not fail her. “All of you,” she added, louder, looking around at the others.

 

Withdrawing her hand she turned to Anya and Lincoln, who still stood at the door looking as horrified as she felt.

 

“Lincoln, get these cages open. Then take these people out of here. Have the stronger ones help the weakest. Get them to the outside and to Iona and Conic.”

 

He wore a conflicted expression.

 

“It’s the only way,” she said, trying to sound reassuring. “Clarke must be nearby. We’ll be just behind you.”

 

Lincoln nodded but looked pained at the prospect of them splitting up. Lexa wondered if it was the best course of action but she knew that her people’s safety was equally as important as Clarke’s, and so she could not risk it for any longer than necessary. They had been through enough.

 

She left with Anya to the sound of Lincoln beginning to break the locks on the cages with his hatchet.

 

 

* * *

 

Many moons ago a small child of only five summers had a First, twelve years her senior. That First taught her that love was strength.

 

Already under the tutelage of the First after her parents were slain in a brutal attack by Azgeda, the little girl had retreated into herself and locked her tiny heart up tight.

 

But the First taught her to be warm again. She filled her life with tenderness even while teaching her to fight, and to love when others would have preferred her to hate.

 

To the outside observer the First appeared hard, and often it seemed as though she scarcely had a kind word to offer the young girl. But just like the lessons she taught, appearances can be deceptive, and in those long days together - training, learning, living; theirs was a precious bond. The little girl learned the power that came with being loved, and the joy that flowed from within when loving another.

 

They made a habit of sleeping under the stars together, more often than not after a long day that took them miles from home, the young one following the older with absolute reverence and trust. It was in those quiet moments, when the campfire had burned low and strong arms circled her tiny body, warding off the evening chill and enveloping her in safety and devotion, that she learned her most important lesson.

 

One that no man…no other, could ever take from her.

 

The little girl would rise to greatness, but regardless of how many times she heard the mantra that sought to reverse this lesson, she would never forget that love was strength.

 

 

* * *

 

“She must be here somewhere,” Anya said, having tried yet another door to no avail.  “Could they have lied about her being on this floor?”

 

“No,” Lexa replied, confidently, “she’s here. I feel her.”

 

At this Anya arched an eyebrow but continued to walk along the corridor.

 

Looking down the seemingly never ending rows of doors ahead Lexa said, “You take the left, I’ll take the right. I wish to be gone from this place and soon.”

 

Anya nodded and they separated.

 

Lexa came to a set of swinging double doors. On entering she saw that there was a large room before her, with a number of hospital beds set up inside. At the back she noticed another door and so she strode forwards to open this too.

 

 _Nothing_ , she thought bitterly, sweeping her eyes across the storeroom. _Just another space devoid of humanity_.

 

When she returned to the corridor, Anya was nowhere to be seen. Lexa pushed on. She came to a heavier looking steel door. The combination of it looking like somewhere that you would want to keep someone _in_ , and the strange vibrating sensation at the back of her head had her hesitate for a moment.

 

This was it. It had to be.

 

She pushed on the heavy handle and the door opened, the hinges groaning as they worked.

 

A rush of air left her lungs as her eyes fell on the scene before her.

 

 _Clarke._ It felt as though the word echoed around the room even when she hadn’t said it aloud.

 

She lay there barefoot and battered, strapped to a metal gurney. No allowances for comfort. There was a tube coming from her arm where her blood had at one time been flowing into the bag below. Her skin looked ashen.

 

Even in her enormous relief, Lexa felt a new surge of rage at what she saw.  Between her people caged in the other room and this, it was all she could do to not let the anger completely consume her.

 

She tried to refocus her mind and moved towards the other girl. Feeling her hands tremble, she unbuckled the straps at Clarke’s ankles and then at her wrists. Again the anger boiled darkly in her already black blood as she catalogued the myriad bruises, gashes and other remnants of violence that were writ large across the unmoving body before her.

 

Roving her eyes over the other girl’s face, her bruised but closed eyes, Lexa took in a gasping breath; part relief, part pain.

 

“Clarke,” she said softly. So softly. She had the strange feeling of not wanting to disturb her, whilst at the same time knowing how foolish that sounded when she had to get them out of there.

 

The tingling sensation at the back of her head had now made its way throughout her body, and as she reached out to gently push some hair from Clarke’s forehead, she was hit with such a strong _emotion_ that she nearly pulled her hand away. What this emotion was she could not say, as she had never felt anything like it before. Such was its power that she had to grasp the side of the gurney to ground herself.

 

It was then that she noticed that Clarke’s eyes had started to move rapidly behind her eyelids.

 

“Clarke,” she said again, louder and stronger this time. “Clarke, wake up.” She reached her hand out again to touch the unconscious form.

 

Before she could, an alarm began to blare, cutting through the silence and deafening Lexa.

 

Her heart somersaulted in her chest and her eyes flew to the open doorway. In that instant, she knew what was about to happen. Somehow, _they_ were coming and this was Raven’s only way to try to warn her.

 

In a few tenths of a second she calculated whether she could get to the door in time to shut it and realised that she very likely could not. She drew her sword from her back in one swift motion and planted herself in front of Clarke.

 

In the next moment three men in uniform had surged into the room, their weapons trained on Lexa. And then a man who didn’t dress like the rest stepped in, a hand gun held loosely at his side. _Cage Wallace_.

 

He looked to the ceiling as the alarm blared on, his already unpleasant mouth twisted into a particularly distasteful shape.

 

Lexa tried to steady her breathing and weigh up her options.

 

There were not many.

 

With no way to alert Raven to halt the alarm, there was not even the chance to talk her way out of___

 

And just like that, the noise stopped.  

 

“Thank god for that,” he said, pressing his fingers to his jaw as if to soothe the ringing they were surely all experiencing.

 

Heda found her voice, and it was furious. “This was not the agreement,” she said, low and dangerous. “Or do you forget what is at stake for you and your people?”

 

He looked at her with what could only be described as muted disgust. Which only became more pronounced when paired with the words that came slithering from him.

 

“I simply couldn’t pass up the chance to meet with the great _Commander_ herself,” he said, his voice dripping with derision. “And besides, how was I to know this was actually what you wanted? After all, I can’t be expected to believe a disembodied voice supposedly coming from space and threatening to destroy my people, can I now?”

 

Lexa bristled. In mere moments this man had shown himself for what he really was; a liar, a charlatan, and someone who would stop at nothing for his own glory over the survival of his people.

 

“That voice,” she replied, through gritted teeth, “has the ability to end you, right here, right now.”

 

“Oh?” he said, his right eyebrow lifting. “Well why isn’t it doing that then?”

 

Lexa worked her jaw and shifted on her feet very slightly, re-hefting her sword in front of her. She knew it would be no match for their bullets, but she also knew she would die trying to save Clarke from having any of these men ever touch her again.

 

Staring into Cage’s cold, dead eyes, she knew then that they held no fear. She almost closed her eyes in defeat as the realisation hit her. Raven _had_ opened the vents on this floor, as soon as she had seen the men approach on the camera feed. Which could only mean one thing - they were now immune, for a period at least, because they had Clarke’s blood flowing inside of them.

 

The thought made Lexa’s stomach heave and she swallowed back the bile that rose sharp in the back of her throat.

 

Cage leered as he watched that realisation set into her features and she had to exert every bit of willpower she possessed not to lunge at him with her sword.

 

“We have control of your entire facility,” she countered, her voice steady despite the hammering  of her heart against her ribcage. _Maybe if she could just buy a little more time._ “You can no longer threaten us with missiles and my army will be here within the day if I do not ask them to stand down. It’s over, Cage. But it doesn’t have to be for your people. Return to them now and allow us to leave here peacefully. No blood needs to be shed today.”

 

He considered her, a strange expression flickering across his features for a brief moment. “None today perhaps...but what about the next day?” he asked, pausing a moment as if he maybe did expect Lexa to answer. “It always comes back to the blood, doesn’t it. Without filling our veins with that _putrid_ liquid you mutated savages possess, my people are destined to die regardless of what happens next here. But what lies inside that Griffin girl - _that’s_ the key to our survival - to _my_ survival - and I’ll be absolutely damned if I let you walk out of here with it.”

 

At this he raised his gun and pointed it at her, pulling the hammer back; the sound audibly clicking in the otherwise quiet space.  

 

Then everything happened so fast that time almost seemed to slow, to the point of Lexa feeling like she was watching what was unfolding from somewhere else.

 

Anya was in the doorway, _a gun_ in her hand - _Clarke’s gun_ , Lexa realised. She remembered it falling from Clarke’s limp hand after she had been shot by Anya’s arrow at the Escape Pod. How Anya had said she would take care of it after Lexa had hauled Clarke’s unconscious body onto her horse, and how Lexa now knew she must have then hidden it somewhere near to Lincoln’s cave. The cave she had disappeared from last night.

 

As if she had been handling firearms her whole life, Anya fired off four shots - _crack, crack, crack, crack._

 

Backs of heads exploded, sprays of red decorating the walls and floor around them.

 

It was only then that Lexa realised she had heard a fifth cracking sound. One fired by Cage even as he fell to the ground.

 

She felt something in her abdomen and looked down to see a small hole in the space between her chest plate and her jacket. As if in a dream, she slowly reached her fingers to the hole and they came away inky black.

 

 _Oh_.

 

All of this had transpired in mere seconds, although to Lexa it felt as though time had ground to a halt.

 

_Time._

 

A strange thought possessed her then. It was as though she could _feel_ the watch _ticking. Tick tick tick tick tick tick_ in its pocket against her chest. But even in the fog of her mind she knew this made little to no sense.

 

“Lexa!” Anya shouted, beginning to step towards her just as she staggered backwards, pain all of a sudden bursting like a firework everywhere inside of her. Before she toppled, the last thing she saw was Anya’s stricken face stuck in motion.

 

And as she fell beside where Clarke lay, a hand caught on to hers, gripping so tightly. The image of a magnificent creature then came to her, its great wings beating the air around it and its roar deafening.

 

As her hand connected fully with the still unconscious Clarke’s, an enormous flash of the whitest light completely enveloped Lexa, blocking everything else out in its infinite entirety.

 

And then, she was gone.

 

Xx

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Backs up against the wall as murderous crowd of Clexas approach*
> 
> Please don't put a kill-order on my head. It's my only one and I quite like it. I promise our precious Heda is going to be ok. No lesbian commanders will die on this show.
> 
> Feel free to shout at me here or over on Tumblr - [weasal](http://weasal.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Please leave feedback if you have a moment or head over to my [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/weasal) where I am weasal and join in with all things Clexa, Lexa and The Hunner.


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